Steel Pier
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: It's the 1933 Steel Pier Dance Marathon. In a competition where people are desperate to win the hefty cash prize, two people strive for courage and a second chance in life. Newsies and Steel Pier crossover.
1. The Rules

1Disclaimer: _Newsies_ is the property of Disney and _Steel Pier_ is the property of John Kander, Fred Ebb, David Thompson, Scott Ellis, and Susan Stroman

* * *

**Steel Pier Dance Marathon in the Marine Ballroom**

**Begins Saturday August 12, 1933 at 9:00pm **

**Cash Prize of $2000**

**Official Rules:**

1. All of the entrants competing must be pronounced physically fit by the Official Medical Board who will be in attendance at all times throughout the contest. Teams may be backed by a City Chamber of Commerce. Ballroom or business enterprise.

2. Changing of wearing apparel will be allowed during the rest periods only. Contestants who do not keep fully dressed in accordance with the regulation are subject to disqualification.

3. No changes of partners will be permitted. When one member of the team withdraws or is eliminated, the other will have 24 hours to find a new partner. If no partner is found, the contestant will be disqualified.

4. Contestants are required to dance 45 minutes and rest 15 minutes every hour. The rest period must be taken simultaneously by all dancers desiring to take advantage of the rest period, but teams are permitted to dance on without taking the rest if they so desire; but if the entrants do not take the rest period this does not permit them to add the 15 minutes to the next rest period.

5. The rules do not require entrants to be dancing, as long as they are in the dance position and moving. Should partners separate while on the floor, the floor manager is instructed to give them a one-minute warning. Failure to then be in position will result in the team being eliminated.

6. Any contestant exiting the dance hall will be immediately disqualified.

Rules and regulations will be strictly enforced by the referee.

Expert masseurs, masseuses, hairdressers, tonsorial artists, manicurists, chiropodists, and other attendants for the comfort and need of the dancers will be in attendance at all times.

Waltz, fox-trot, two step, and ten-minute sprints for cash prizes will be staged throughout the contest.

Audience members may throw coins on to the dance floor for their favorite couples. Any coin thrown belong to the person or couple who grabs it first.


	2. 12 Ocean Drive

Disclaimer: _Newsies_ is the property of Disney and _Steel Pier_ is the property of John Kander, Fred Ebb, David Thompson, Scott Ellis, and Susan Stroman. The song sung by the Steel Pier Gems is mine and mine alone.

* * *

Jack Kelly sat on the beach near the Steel Pier. It was nearly 8:30pm, though the colorful lights from the boardwalk brightened up the pitch black sky. The area was practically deserted, the only sounds being those of the waves crashing. Despite the fact that it was mid-August, the weather was cool and the breeze coming off the Atlantic blew roughly against Jack, his torn flight jacket doing little to protect him from it. He held a raffle ticket tightly in his hand, studying it intently. The number "52" was printed in the middle of the ticket. On the back it read "Expires September 3rd, 1933"

"Three weeks," he muttered to himself. He knew three weeks was not a lot of time in the long run. Of course, three weeks was better than nothing. After all, how many other people get a second chance?

"All marathon dancers are to sign up now at the Steel Pier!" a voice called from the boardwalk. Jack stood up and brushed the sand from his pilot's uniform. As he headed toward the Steel Pier another figure walking along the shore caught his eye. She was only slightly shorter than he was with a petite build. Her black hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and her light blue dress whipped about in the breeze. She was barefoot, holding her stockings and shoes in one hand and a suitcase that had clearly seen better days in the other. It was her. It was Daisy Bloom, better known as "Lindy's Lovebird."

Jack watched as Daisy walked through the surf, grinning and laughing as the small waves splashed against her thighs. When she reached where he stood, her suitcase cracked open, the contents spilling out across the sand. Much to his surprise, Daisy simply began laughing. "Oh, this is just perfect!" she said with a giggle.

"Can I offer you a hand, ma'am?" Jack asked, approaching her tentatively.

She grinned up at him, her blue eyes sparkling. "If you'd like to, Flyboy!" She grabbed pieces of lingerie and began stuffing them back into the suitcase, still laughing.

"You certainly seem to be taking this well." Jack commented as he picked up a dress and handed it to her.

"Oh, nothing could dampen my mood right now! You know why?" Before he could even open his mouth to respond she went on. "Because this is the last marathon! With the money I win from this I'll finally be able to go home. No more moving from town to town!" Her face radiated and he found he couldn't help but grin.

"That sounds nice, but how can you be sure you'll win?"

She blushed a bit. "Well, I guess I'm a bit full of myself. But you should see who I'm dancing with! He's one of the biggest pros in the business! He and I will make an unbeatable team."

"Oh, so you already have a partner." Jack kicked at the sand, feeling a bit awkward. "Can't say I'm surprised. After all, you're Lindy's Lovebird! Who wouldn't want to dance with you?"

Daisy looked at him incredulously. "You actually remember that?"

Jack grinned. "Sure! Lindbergh comes back from his Atlantic flight and not only is he hailed as a hero but he's lucky enough to get his first hero kiss from you."

Daisy smiled, her eyes gazing out to the ocean as though remembering something wonderful. "Boy, who knew one little kiss could sky rocket a career?"She glanced over at him, the wistful look disappearing from her gaze, and added quickly, "But that was a long time ago. I'm practically a no one now."

"It was only six years ago. You were playing vaudeville for a few years after that. You're hardly a no one."

"Trust me, when you stop getting your name in the papers you're a no one. Even the biggest star can fall into obscurity in a matter of weeks if the papers have better things to report on." She tied a stocking around the broken suitcase. "I guess I just can't compete with something like The Great Depression. I mean, who has time to worry about my latest act when they can't even afford to see it?" Daisy sat down gently upon her suitcase, brushed the sand from her feet and began putting her stockings and shoes back on.

Jack kneeled down and held the sides of her suitcase to keep it from wobbling as she sat upon it. "Maybe it's just me, but I find your act to be a nice distraction from the state of the world. I caught your act in Trenton three days ago."

"You mean the one at the air show?"

"Yeah, that was the one. You were so wonderful to watch."

Daisy blushed again. "Well...you'd better take a good look at me now, because once I'm done with this marathon..."

"You're going home," Jack finished. Daisy put her last shoe back on and the two stood "I imagine you've got a nice Penthouse in New York somewhere?"

Daisy threw her head back and laughed. "No, I'm afraid it's nothing as sophisticated as that. It's just a small house on 12 Ocean Drive, about two hours from here. There is only one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a small den. The walls need painting, the furniture is out of date, and I'm sure my garden is a wreck by now. But it's home. It's certainly more home than any hotel or marathon dressing room I've been in."

Jack nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels, unsure of what to say next. Before he had a chance to say anything, a voice came from the boardwalk again. "Last call for contestants without partners!"

"Well, I guess I should go in," Jack said reluctantly. "I can't very well dance in a dance marathon without a partner, right?"

"Well thank you for your help," Daisy said, holding her hand out for him to shake. "And don't worry, Flyboy! I'm sure someone is waiting inside just for you."

"I hope she is," Jack said shaking her hand. With a quick grin he trotted up to the boardwalk.

* * *

Daisy stood outside the Marine Ballroom entrance waiting for her partner to show. It was already 8:50 and she was beginning to get nervous. The marathon was going to start in ten minutes and if her guy didn't show up there was no guarantee she'd be able to find a partner in time. No prize money meant she wouldn't be able to go home. Good-bye to 12 Ocean Drive.

"Why I do declare! If it isn't Miss Lovebird herself!" a fake southern belle accent called out. Daisy saw an older woman whose deep purple dress had a much lower neckline than her own. Despite her age, the woman's eyes gleamed charismatically. "Will you be treating us to a song, Miss Bloom?"

"Medda!" Daisy wrapped her arms around the woman in a tight hug. "Are you here for the marathon?"

"But of course!" Medda replied, brushing strands of her frizzy red hair from her face. "What are you standing out here for? Selling apples?"

"No, I'm just waiting for my partner."

"At this hour? Honey, you've been stood up."

Daisy bit her lip. "No...he'll show. I know it," she insisted, but even she didn't believe herself.

"Last call for all contestants!"

Medda took Daisy's arm in her own. "Well, you can just wait for him inside. After all if by some chance he doesn't show I think you'll have a better chance of finding a new partner in here. "

Daisy opened her mouth to once again insist that her partner would show, but closed it immediately, realizing how foolish she really sounded. Besides, Medda had a good point. "I guess I should at least see who is still available," she conceded as she followed Medda inside.

"Atta girl!" Medda opened the door for Daisy. "Maybe you'll even be able to keep up with me," she added with a grin which Daisy returned.

Inside the ballroom the sounds of excited chatter filled the air. The dance floor was alive with couples. Some were standing in line to register, some were standing in line to receive a number, some were waiting to be examined by the marathon's doctor, and some were already dancing around the floor, likely to show off to the audience sitting in the nearby bleachers in hopes of getting a sponsor early on in the competition. Right behind the dance floor was a bandstand on which three young ladies, The Steel Pier Gems, were standing as a radio microphone was being set up between them. Above the bandstand was a tally board indicating the number of hours past and the number of contestants still on the dance floor. On either side of the dance floor was a door leading to the rest quarters, one for the men and the other for the women.

Medda groaned. "Would you look at them?"

"Who?" Daisy asked.

"Them," Medda said, pointing to where a bulk of couples stood, all talking excitedly. "The amateurs. They still think this is just a game." Medda set her suitcase down and scanned the dance floor intently. "Christ! Are we the only pros here?"

Daisy glanced to the side of the dance floor. "No, there's Patrick Conlon and Luke Adams. Oh, and Shelby Stevens is right over there!"

"Mm. Well, it still looks as though we're outnumbered."

"Well, most of the pros we know aren't doing the marathons anymore. I heard Dora Foster broke her leg at the marathon we did three months ago. Remember when she fell from her bunk bed in the 520th hour?"

"Oh I remember. That has to have been the most malnourished woman I've ever seen in my life!"

"I'm surprised Johnny isn't here."

"Oh, he collapsed at a marathon in Chicago. The doctor said he needed as much rest as he could possibly get, so now his little wifey won't do another marathon until the doctor says Johnny's ready." Medda shrugged. "Well, I guess that's just less competition for me." She grabbed her suitcase as well as Daisy's. "I'll bring these to our rest quarters. You look for a partner."

"I'm surprised you care, Medda! After all, what am I but just more competition for you?"

"Well, I figure we pros have to stick together!" Medda called over her shoulder as she walked to the door for the women's rest quarters. Daisy, began strolling along the dance floor, seeing who was here and, more importantly, which men weren't yet taken.

"All right, kiddies!" called Kloppman, the marathon's elderly referee, from the bandstand. "We're about to go on the air, and the marathon will be under way in only a few minutes, so get yourselves ready!" No sooner had he said this than the band started up and The Steel Pier Gems began singing into the radio microphone.

"If you're feeling down and so blue, if you feel the world's against you, there is a place where you can feel grand. Sit on the beach; listen to the band! Here your troubles just float away. Here you'll have no fear. So why don't you come out and play? Why don't you come to The Steel Pier?"

The Gems parted and a man entered behind them. He was dressed in a nice suit that had likely cost him a pretty penny. His hair was slicked back and his grin was more a smirk than anything else. "Ladies and gentlemen," the Gems announced, "here is your marathon host: Oscar Delancy!"

"Thank you, ladies!" Oscar said as he stepped up to the microphone. "Hello, home listeners! We're coming to you live from the Marine Ballroom on the world famous Steel Pier! It's the 1933 Atlantic City Dance Marathon coming to you on WFPG with yours truly! Hey, kiddies, why don't you give the home listeners a little cheer?" Oscar held the microphone out to the dance floor as the couples cheered. "Folks," Oscar continued in the microphone, "I've hosted many marathons and I can tell you that I have never seen a group as confident and promising as the group I see before me. Each couple seems certain that they will be able to outlast the others, winning the prize of two-thousand dollars!" At the mention of the prize, all of the couples once again cheered. "The marathon should be getting underway in just a few moments, but in the meantime, let's try and get to know some of our contestants!"

Daisy walked up to the stage, still looking for a partner among the men gathered there. Oscar spotted her. "You!" he said pointing to her. "Why don't you come over here and tell us your name, darling?"

"Oh, I'm Daisy."

"Into the microphone," Oscar told her, holding it down from the bandstand.

"Daisy," she repeated into the microphone. "Daisy Bloom."

"Wait, you mean THE Daisy Bloom?" Daisy nodded humbly. "Folks, we got ourselves a real celebrity here! Who are you dancing with?"

"Well, no one yet..."

"Gentlemen! Are you honestly going to let this little lady go without a partner?" Oscar stood back up on the bandstand and set the microphone down. "Don't worry, Daisy! I'm sure some lucky man will be here to dance with you!"

Medda approached the stage having just been partnered with someone. "My! It looks like the marathon world's very own Medda Larkson is here as well!" Medda smiled and waved to the crowd. "I'm told Medda will be dancing with new marathoner Anthony Higgins," Oscar said, gesturing toward a very Italian young man who was standing beside Medda, playing a soft tune on his harmonica. He and Medda both wore the number 32 on their backs. "Medda how many marathons have you done now?"

Medda grabbed the microphone. "Well, it's all become a bit of a blur. I'd say this is at least my twelfth."

"Well you certainly have made a career out of it!" Oscar said, yanking the microphone back onto the stage.

Up near the front of the dance floor a young couple was looking out at the audience while the other couples were watching Oscar on the bandstand. The man grabbed his wife's hand. "Come on! While they ain't looking!" The couple ran to the front of the dance floor and began dancing suggestively. "Hey! Look at this! Brand new step here!" Their bodies were pressed together tightly, his hips grinding into hers as his hands wandered down her backside.

Oscar noticed the pair and turned to Kloppman who was standing behind him. He whispered something to Kloppman, pointing to the couple. Kloppman nodded and proceeded to the front of the floor.

"We know all of the steps!" the man said to the crowd.

Kloppman pulled the two apart. "Enough of that! You can Bunny Hug, but you can't Grizzly Bear!"

"How are we supposed to get sponsors?" the man asked. "This step is guaranteed to get us a sponsor."

"That step is guaranteed to get us shut down. Then you won't get anything. Now dance respectfully or I'll throw you out."

"Oh, it looks like couple #46, Billy and Hannah Newman, has gotten off to a rocky start here with our referee," Oscar announced, gesturing toward the "Grizzly Bear" couple. "But they do bring up a good point. Business men, come out here and take a look at our couples! If one of them catches your eye you can sponsor them. They get your vote of confidence and you get their backs! One choice we have here is couple #17!"

Couple #17 ran onto the dance floor and began to perform what was obviously an old routine. The man had a skinny build, curly brown hair, and blue eyes, while the woman had a slightly sturdier build, long brown hair, and brown eyes. Both wore ill-fitting and slightly ratty clothing. They finished their routine and ran to the side while Oscar continued. "That was Couple #17, the brother and sister sensation, Sarah and David Jacobs!"

At the registration table a couple pinned #26's onto each other's backs. The man was shorter and skinnier than most of the other men there, with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The woman was slightly taller than her partner but just as skinny. Her red hair was pulled back in a braid and her dress looked as though it had at one time been very sophisticated. As the two walked onto the dance floor, Oscar noticed them.

"Well, will you look here! Olympic champion Patrick Conlon has just signed up! His partner is first time marathoner and former socialite Valerie Fowler!" A spotlight was shone on the pair. Patrick grinned and threw his arms up onto the air, playing to the applauding crowd. Valerie, however, froze in the spotlight. Patrick grabbed her hand and yanked it into the air with his, but she immediately pulled her hand from his and turned away from the crowd, obviously embarrassed. "So, Patrick, you think you're going to break any records for us tonight?"

"If I don't it won't be from lack of trying," Patrick responded smugly as Valerie dragged him off to the side. As they walked off, a young girl walked past them searching through the dance floor with two #4's in her hand. The girl had blonde hair that fell in curls down the back of her pink dress and bright blue eyes. She couldn't have been older than 19.

Oscar whistled as she walked by. "Darling, what is your name?"

The girl whipped around to face him. She pointed to herself and mouthed "Me?" Oscar nodded and beckoned her over to the bandstand. She took a hold of the microphone that he held out to her. "I'm Precious. Precious Meyers."

"Precious? Well that you certainly are! Do you have a partner, sweetie?"

"Oh, yes! My husband, Mush Meyers! I'm trying to find him...Oh there he is!" she said waving to a man on the other side of the room. He had dark skin, big brown eyes, and a mess of brown curls. He looked to be about as old as Precious was. "Mr. Delancy," Precious continued, "are you on the radio?"

Oscar grinned. "Why yes I am. This is being broadcast live from WFPG."

Precious's eyes widened. "Oh, it's always been my dream to sing on the radio! I even wrote this song and–"

Oscar cut her off. "Well, Precious, we do let some of our marathoners perform in Star Spots throughout the competition. Maybe you'll be chosen. Now why don't you go join your partner. We're going to be starting in only a few moments."

Precious quickly ran over to Mush. "Did you hear what he said? I may get to sing on the radio!"

Mush smiled as Precious excitedly pinned the number to his back. "I heard, sweetie."

"Folks," Oscar continued from the bandstand. "We have only a minute to go before we get this under way. We have 71 couples here ready to dance!" Above him, the tally board read "Hours Elapsed: 0" and "Couples Remaining:71."

From the side of the dance floor Daisy was giving up hope. There wasn't a single man looking for a partner.

"Why so glum?"

She looked up startled and Jack. "Oh, hi." She glanced down and saw two #39's in his hand. "I see you found yourself a partner."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Where is she?"

"Right here," he said holding one of the numbers out to her.

She looked at it and furrowed her brow at him. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "I took a guess." He placed the number in her hand and asked, "Partner?"

She took it without a second thought and smiled at him. "Yes!" She hurriedly pinned the number on as she heard Oscar starting the marathon countdown from the bandstand.

"Here we go folks! Count down with me!" The Gems and the audience all joined Oscar as the couples ran onto the dance floor and situated themselves.

"Five...four...three...two...one!"


	3. A Second Chance

Disclaimer: _Newsies_ is the property of Disney and _Steel Pier_ is the property of John Kander, Fred Ebb, David Thompson, Scott Ellis, and Susan Stroman.

* * *

When the starting gun was fired, the orchestra began playing and the couples began dancing at full force. Immediately one could tell the pros from the amateurs, because, while the amateurs danced basic dances and acted as though they were having the time of their lives, the pros were dancing more interesting dances, some that the couples themselves had come up with, and danced more fervidly as though their lives depended on it. For some of them it did.

One could also immediately tell the good dancers from the mediocre dancers and Jack Kelly, Daisy learned the moment he began dancing, was a mediocre dancer, especially compared to her. Fighting back an exasperated sigh, she let her arms wrap around him and looked around the floor trying to figure out who was the competition.

"So what happened to your partner?" Jack asked as he looked down at her feet and tried to follow the rhythm she had going.

She looked up at him with a mirthless smile. "I don't know, but I hope it was something really bad. If not, something really bad will happen to him next time I see him." She looked down at his feet. His steps were heavy and his body didn't have much rhythm. "You don't dance much, do you?"

He smiled sheepishly. "That obvious?"

She shrugged it off, hoping she hadn't embarrassed him. "I've just done so many of these marathons I can tell pretty easily. So Mr...I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Jack Kelly at your service," he said with a little mock bow.

"So, Jack Kelly, what is with the get up?" Daisy asked, eyeing his flight jacket and khaki pants.

"I'm guessing you didn't see _my_ act when you were at the Trenton air show," he said with a smirk. He tried to twirl her out as he had seen the man in the couple next to them do, but when he spun her back in she tripped over his foot and fell against his chest. "Oh, sorry!"

She laughed, unsure what to make of the man who had miraculously shown up to dance with her. "It's no problem. What were you saying about the air show, though?"

"Well, I'm a stunt pilot. I do a lot of daredevil type stuff with planes. One of my acts is when I save a woman from the wing of my plane," he explained while trying to get his rhythm in sync with hers again. "But it's funny, because if I don't get to her by a certain point her clothes blow off, so most of the guys want me to fail."

Daisy's brow furrowed a bit. "Wait...did you fly a red plane with white teeth painted on?"

"Yeah, that would be me."

"I saw your act! I must say you are quite the hot-dog." She tried to pick up the pace of their dancing, but ended up butting her knee against his. Gritting her teeth a bit, she decided to make do for the time being. "You know I probably would have enjoyed the air show more if that plane hadn't crashed in the middle of my act."

Jack winced a bit. "Yeah, I didn't plan that part."

Daisy stopped dancing and looked up at him. "That was _you_?"

Kloppman, who was walking through the throng of couples, saw Daisy stop. "Miss Bloom, the marathon has just begun. Keep dancing or I'll have to disqualify you."

"Oh," Daisy said, not realizing she had stopped. She began swaying again, no longer interested in how good or bad of a dancer Jack was at the moment. "Well, you certainly look fine for having been in a crash only three days ago."

"Didn't you stick around to make sure I was okay?"

"Nothing personal, but there was no way the crowd was going to give two hoots about me after that, so I left." She sighed, her eyes betraying her sadness. "I think that was my last chance."

Sensing her remorse, Jack hugged her closer instinctively. "Nah, you'll get a second chance. Anyone can get a second chance. You just have to look for it."

Daisy looked up at him and felt comfortable, more so than she had in a while. When his foot crashed down upon hers, though, she realized how close they were. She also realized it was time to give her partner a crash course in dancing.

"Okay, let's really get down to business now," she said, her face growing serious. "First try to make a box with your feet." Jack looked down at his feet and followed the pattern of her feet. After a few missteps, he had the rhythm down. "Now look back up at me." As soon as he did, his feet faltered and he lost the rhythm. _I have a feeling this isn't going to be a picnic_, Daisy thought to herself as Jack looked back down and tried to pick the rhythm up again. Next to them David and Sarah Jacobs danced by, showing off both for the audience as well as for the other couples. Beside them Daisy felt hopeless.

"Ok, let's try again. Just follow me. Slow, slow, quick, quick!" She looked down and saw he had begun to catch on. "Good!"

"You know, I won a raffle in Trenton right before the plane fiasco."

"Oh, did you?" she asked, still looking at his feet.

"Yeah, and do you know what the prize was?"

"Well, _I_ would hope for money."

"Nope, even better. The prize was a dance with you."

At that he head shot back up. "What? You won the raffle?"

Jack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the ticket for her to see. "Paid fifty cents for it, too," he said as she read the ticket.

"Well, it's too bad you couldn't collect," she said handing it back to him.

"Says who? You admit you left the air show early, so really you stood me up. This baby is good for three weeks and I intend to collect my dance with you," he proclaimed with a grin.

"Well, aren't we dancing now?"

"Oh no," he said shaking his head," this doesn't count. It has to be a _real_ dance."

Daisy began snickering, "Okay, Flyboy, I'll give you a free dance at some point. Maybe once we win this thing." She shook her head in disbelief. "I just can't believe you'd go through so much trouble for one dance."

"Like I said anyone can get a second chance."

The bell rang, indicating that it was time for the fifteen minute break. The couples broke off, each member heading to their designated rest quarter. Some stopped on the dance floor to once again wave to the audience and show which number they were.

"Don't go away," Oscar said once again on the bandstand. "Our couples are taking their first break, but they'll be back for more in fifteen minutes! In the meantime, The Steel Pier Gems will be here to keep you entertained. Take it away, ladies!" As the girls began to sing, Oscar left the bandstand and headed through a door on the far side of the ballroom. No one noticed when Daisy followed him after a few moments.

* * *

Oscar was situated at a desk. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes were closed and his breathing deep and even. The knock at the door broke him from his trance. "Come in," he said gruffly. Daisy peeked her head in. "Miss Bloom, you know it's against the rules for you to be up here," he told her with a smirk.

Daisy smiled and perched herself on the side of his desk.. "But I thought you could use a little number from Lindy's Lovebird to spice up this marathon."

"Well, maybe we could discuss a few things," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. The two laughed as he pulled her in for a kiss. "Christ, kid! This is...what? The sixth marathon we've worked?"

"Eighth," she corrected.

"Yeah, eight marathons," he muttered kissing her neck. "You know, it still steams me to see my wife dancing with other guys, even if the money's good."

Daisy's face grew stony. "Speaking of dancing with other guys, what happened to the pro you promised me?"

"I don't know, but if I ever find him I'm gonna fix him so he never dances again," Oscar spat. "But it's no big deal. You found a partner and it's going to be fine."

"Oscar, have you seen him? I mean he's a swell fellow and all, but we'll never last with the other pros here!"

Oscar took her hands in his. "Baby, you just have to show him how it's done. I'll take care of the rest."

Daisy bit her lip. "Oscar...do you think maybe it's a sign?"

"A sign?"

"Yeah, like maybe I'm not supposed to compete in this marathon. Maybe it's time for us just to go back home?" she asked with a hint of hope in her voice.

Oscar's face darkened. "What are you saying? You don't care about the $2,000? We have no money, Daisy! And face it, honey, no one gives a damn about Lindy's Lovebird anymore, at least no one important!"

Daisy lowered her eyes, feeling his stinging words as though they were lashing against her skin. "I just thought..."

Oscar could see she was upset. Softening his tone, he tucked his hand under her chin and lifted her head until she was looking him in the eye. "Look, I wish we didn't have to do marathons, but it's better than starving, isn't it?" She nodded, but he could tell she still wanted to pack up and go home. "Look, baby, I promise that this is the last one. We win this and we go home."

"Honest?"

Oscar pulled Daisy against him just as Jack had earlier. "Honest. So please, don't walk out on me now. Cause who needs you more, baby?"

Daisy felt his breath against her head and nuzzled against him. "You do."

* * *

There were fourteen rest quarters, seven for the men and seven for the women. Each room was equipped with two sets of bunk beds and a haphazardly set up toilet room. Some of the rest quarters had a cot or two also crammed between the bunk beds to allow for more people.

When Daisy entered her assigned rest quarter she saw her suitcase sitting on the top of one of the bunk beds. Sitting on the bed below was Medda. On the bottom of the other bunk bed was a woman whom she knew to be Sarah Jacobs. However, the redheaded woman on the top bunk and the young blonde woman on the cot didn't look familiar to her at all.

"How nice of you to finally join us, Miss Lovebird!" Medda called from her bed. "Allow me to introduce you to the other girls. "I'm sure you already know Sarah," Medda said. Daisy and Sarah smiled and exchanged hellos. "And then we have Valerie and Petunia," Medda said pointing to the redheaded woman and the blonde girl respectively.

"It's Precious," the blonde girl corrected.

"Whatever," Medda said with a shrug.

Daisy gave both women a smile and a nod as she began changing. "I loved your act," she heard Sarah say from behind her. "I remember I did your dance once. Or tried to at least." As if to explain, Sarah began dancing about the small quarters humming an old tune Daisy had sung countless times. Medda delightedly joined her.

Daisy laughed, both flattered and impressed. "I'm sure you'll get a star spot!"

"A what?" Precious asked.

"The star spot," Sarah explained. "You get to whip up the crowd." Daisy had pulled out a new dress and deposited her old one on the edge of her bed. Sarah eyed the one on the bed admiringly. "I love your dress," Sarah told her with a hint of envy. "I don't have any more nice dresses like that."

"You can have it," Daisy said tossing it to her. "It doesn't fit me right anyway."

Sarah's face reddened at the sudden act of charity, but she wasn't too proud to refuse it. "Thank you so much!" She held it against he body, wishing there was a mirror in the room so she could see how it looked. "I used to have a nice dress like this, but once it got worn out I started using it for the tramp act David and I do."

"Oh, I have a tramp act," Medda interjected. "Brings down the house every time." She smirked, and continued, particularly speaking to Precious, "Yes, that's right! I am a pro! And do you know why? Because I have stamina. I guess anyone would, though, after working as cook for a lumberjack camp. It was actually a cushy job until the woods caught on fire."

"Fire? How awful," Precious said with a gasp.

"The loggers said it started when I was in the shed...er...milking the foreman, if you get my drift," she said to Precious. The blank stare on Precious' face told Medda that she indeed did not get her drift, but she continued, "But that's complete rubbish. Anyway, after I cooked for a few marathons, I figured I'd give it a shot. Worked out well for me, if I do say so."

"Wow!" Precious said, her eyes wide with fascination. "What about you, Miss Bloom?"

"What about me?"

"Well, didn't you used to be somebody?"

Daisy flinched involuntarily. "Yes, I did."

"Boy," Precious gushed, "I'd give anything to be somebody. I mean, somebody everyone knows!"

"Don't count on it, Pickles. The odds are one in a million," Medda said smugly.

Seeing Precious' face fall a bit at Medda's harsh, albeit true, comment, Daisy approached her delicately. "Do you have a specialty act?"

"Well, not like a sexy dance or nothing...but I sing. I'm a soprano and I've always wanted to sing on the radio."

Daisy smiled warmly. "Well, if you talk to Mister Delancy about it. If he thinks you've got a good act, he may let you perform for the best crowds."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, and the best crowds throw the best money."

Valerie, who had remained quiet the entire time, shot up and looked at Sarah as though she were insane. "Money? They _throw_ money?"

"Of course! Why do you think everyone plays up to the crowd so much?"

"But...but that's so...degrading!"

Medda snorted. "Darling, have you noticed where you are?"

Valerie stuck her nose into the air. "Well, you won't see _me_ crawling around on the floor for money like...like monkeys at a circus!"

"Fine, Miss Socialite, then that's just more for us," Medda said unfazed by the sudden outburst. She lay back on her bed and grimaced. "Damn these beds are lumpy! They remind me of my first husband."

* * *

Over in one of the men's rest quarters Jack was sitting on his bed waiting for the marathon to start again so he could see Daisy again. In his hand he fiddled around with a small medal.

"Wow! A warm bed and a chance to win money? This is heaven!" cried Mush.

Spot grinned smugly from his bed. "Yep, it's not a bad set up. I mean, when you win the Olympics, which _I_ have," he boasted, "you only get a medal. But this is much nicer."

"You were in the Olympics?" Mush asked, wide eyed.

"Sure was," Spot said with pride, "1928 Wrestling Champion of the World."

"Wrestling?" David asked in disbelief. "You don't look like you could even pin down your partner."

Spot glowered. "Are you challenging me? Because I'd be happy to set you straight with only a few moves."

David shrugged, not at all worried about Spot's threat. "It doesn't matter anyway. This is a dance marathon, buddy, and it's a steps that matter. I bet my sister and I get a sponsor before you do. Watch this!" David performed a complicated tap step. The other men were impressed, including Spot. Of course, he'd never admit it. "See, while you spent your time pinning other guys to mats, I was brushing up on the new dances and figuring out how to improve upon them."

"Do you ever shut up?" Spot asked, seething at having been shown up. "You're like a walking mouth or something!"

"Hey, I'm Anthony Higgins," Anthony said to Mush. "What's your name?"

"I'm Mush."

"Mush?" Spot cried incredulously. "Where in hell are you from that your folks named you 'Mush'?"

"Oh, Utah! Me and my wife Precious–"

"Precious!?! Christ, Utah must be bizarre!"

Anthony glanced over at Jack and spotted the medal in his hand. "Is that a war medal or something?"

Jack shook his head. "Nah, it's just a medal for bravery. I won it at an air show I was in."

"Oh, do you do stunts or–"

"Sh!" Spot cut him off. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Mush asked.

The men feel silent. After a moment, a small cooing noise was heard from behind the cot. The five of them huddled around. Lying on the ground was a pigeon quivering slightly. Jack leaned down and gently picked it up.

"Is it dead?" Anthony asked.

"I think it's got a busted wing," Mush told him. "But it'll probably be dead soon."

"Times are tough. Maybe we should eat him," David said only half-kidding.

"It must have come in through the window," Jack said nodding to the window above the cot. "I guess the lights and music lured it in or something."

From outside their room the men heard Kloppman blow his whistle. "One more minute to get out onto the dance floor!"

The men looked down at the bird. "Well," Spot said, "I'm going back out. You can do what you want with the bird."

As Spot left the others followed suit except for Jack. When the men were gone Jack walked over to the open window. "C'mon, little bird," he said soothingly to the pigeon, "you don't have to stay here. I'm gonna give you a second chance. You can leave." He placed his hands outside of the window. The pigeon looked up hesitantly. "Go on," he implored, "fly!"

The pigeon spread it's wings and soared out of Jack's hands.


	4. Power

Disclaimer: _Newsies_ is the property of Disney and _Steel Pier_ is the property of John Kander, Fred Ebb, David Thompson, Scott Ellis, and Susan Stroman.

* * *

The marathon had been going 42 hours straight and it was now 3:00pm on Monday, August 14. So far all couples were still standing, though many were beginning to falter and weaken. Many of the men could be seen literally holding up their female partners who were half-sleeping. Some of the women were doing the same for their male partners, though that proved to be a bit more difficult. Despite this, the mood of the marathon was still light and happy.

As the band played the rhumba and the couples tried their best to keep up, long tables of food were rolled onto the edge of the dance floor. Generally the food was a small assortment of sandwiches, fruit, and pastries. Not exactly a feast, but for the dancers food was food and they were likely eating better in here than they would be out in the rest of the country. Most of the couples danced toward the table, each partner grabbing a little bit of food that they could eat while dancing, and then dancing back to the center of the floor to enjoy the snack.

"All over the country, families are starving in the streets or standing in line at soup kitchens," Oscar droned into the microphone, "but here, our dancers all get three snacks and three square meals a day. Not a bad deal, huh, kids?" The marathon dancers cheered in response, though their cheering was not as exuberant as it had been at the start of the marathon.

Kloppman was roaming in and out of the crowd of dancers, looking to make sure no one had stopped. "I told you no Grizzly Bear!" he scolded, pulling couple #46 apart. The male partner scowled at him, but returned to a proper dance position. Kloppman turned from the couple and spotted Jack and Daisy. From what he could tell, Daisy was trying to show Jack a new step. From the grimace on her face, the lesson didn't seem to be going well.

"Jack," Kloppman commented as he passed, "I never see you eat. You need some food to keep up your stamina. It also helps you keep living."

"Kloppman, have you ever had something wonderful come your way? Something just out of the blue! After that, you realize what is and isn't important."

Kloppman paused at Jack's statement and looked at him for a moment. "Did you eat the shepherd's pie? Never eat the shepherd's pie. It makes you a bit weird in the head. But don't worry," he said patting Jack on the shoulder, "once it gets out of your system you're usually okay." Over Jack's shoulder Kloppman spotted a couple that was staggering. "Excuse me," he muttered rushing over there.

It was couple #44. The girl was furiously rubbing her leg, telling her partner she had a charlie horse. As Kloppman stood there telling them to get back into position, both the girl and her partner rubbed furiously at her leg. "Ten seconds!" Kloppman yelled, by now catching the attention of the audience, the other dancers, and Oscar.

"Folks," Oscar said milking the drama, "it looks like we may be about to have the first fall in our marathon."

"Three...two...one!" Kloppman cried. "You're out!"

Dejected, the couple removed their numbers and left he floor, the man supporting his limping partner. Above the bandstand, the number of remaining couples dropped to "70."

"Oh, how sad it is for couple #44," Oscar said without a hint of sympathy in his voice. "However, this is a competition and if no one loses, no one can win, right? As for our remaining couples, remember to throw those coins! Also, you can purchase photographs of your favorites at the concession stand. Buy them now because there is no guarantee they will be there tomorrow! Now, everybody dance!"

* * *

In his office Oscar was sitting back scanning the newspaper. In his mouth he held a smouldering cigarette. When Kloppman entered Oscar didn't look up and hardly acknowledged the older man in any way. Kloppman stood quietly, waiting for Oscar to speak first. After only a moment, Oscar tossed the newspaper to Kloppman. "Here, read the headlines to everyone. Maybe it'll show 'em how lucky they are to be here. You know, raise their spirits." He removed the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it into the ashtray on his desk.

"Oscar, I got a call from Nedick's. They said they'd sponsor the sprints, even provide the running suits."

Oscar clapped his hands in delight. "Perfect! Now I just need Fralinger to agree."

"He called too," Kloppman said hesitantly. "He's declining the offer."

"What?" Oscar slammed his hand on his desk and stood. "He can't pass. I need this sponsor."

"He said maybe another time."

"Time? What time!" Oscar began pacing. "Christ, this isn't the time to be playing the waiting game on me. Kloppman, I've sunk every penny I ever earned into this. I even sunk some pennies I stole into it. If we miss we're out on the streets. If it's a hit, though, we're golden."

"It's just one sponsor, Oscar."

"Not just any sponsor, though. It's the sponsor that could get us to St. Louis."

"What's in St. Louis?"

Oscar chuckled. " Biggest marathon in the country, that's what. $5,000 for the winner, which will be Daisy. They'll only take me for it if I can provide her. If I can't get a Fralinger sponsor for Lindy's Lovebird, they'll think maybe she isn't so big a star as she used to be and then she won't be as valuable."

"Didn't you tell her this was her last marathon?"

There was an uncomfortable bout of silence between the two men. "Kloppman," Oscar sighed, "sometimes you've got to do low down things to stay on top. I'm not proud of lying to Daisy, but really I'm doing this for her. Besides, if I give into her I lose the most important thing in life: power."

"Do you really think power is that important?"

"I _know _so. It's one of the many lessons my old man taught me as a kid."

Kloppman snorted. "I see you were a straight A student of your father's."

"You joke, but just look at me up on that bandstand. I say 'dance,' they dance. I say 'stop,' they stop. Sing, cry, smile, anything. You name it, and they'll do it if I tell them to. Hell, most of them probably wouldn't breathe if I told them not to." Oscar fell back into his seat. "Even you," he mused, "were once an honest man."

"I suppose so," Kloppman conceded with a shrug.

"But now, if I say lie or cheat or steal, you do it, don't you." Kloppman responded with a shameful nod. "So yes, I value my power over Daisy's happiness. But she has me to thank anyway. She became a star thanks to me! You think her kissing Lindbergh was just luck? I put hours into making that stunt work, pulling strings to have her at the front of the crowd. I made her a star, and I think I'm entitled to a little of her respect."

"But aren't you ever afraid that all of that power could corrupt you?" Kloppman asked, choosing his words carefully.

Oscar threw his head back with raucous laughter. "Oh, Kloppman, I'm already corrupted!"

"Well, just remember that power also has a way of destroying people."

"Well, lucky for me, I'm indestructible." Oscar leaned back in his chair, obviously content with himself. "I tell ya, Kloppman, power is a powerful thing.

* * *

From atop the bandstand, a handful of coins flew into the air, clattering onto the dance floor. The couples stood off to the sides, all waiting in anticipation. All eyes were on Oscar, who had thrown the coins. He stood still for a moment, reveling in the fact that no one would dare move until his say so. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he yelled, "Go get them!"

In a moment, bodies dove to the floor, dancers scooping as many coins as they could into their pockets, shirts, or dresses. The only person who remained standing was Valerie, who simply walked past the pile of coins and people. From his place on the ground, Patrick scowled at his partner, but didn't stop grabbing coins.

The tally board read "Hours Elapsed: 188" and "Couples Remaining: 36." With one week past and practically half of the starting couples gone, the marathon was beginning to slow down considerably. The dancers cheers ranged from small to non-existent and, for most couples, the fast dances had been substituted with slower, less athletic dances. Clothing, which had likely been second-hand to begin with, was beginning to tear and soil. Even the audience had begun to dwindle. Worst of all, many of the amateurs had begun to realize this marathon wasn't fun and games: it was a dog eat dog competition, every couple for themselves. There were few amateurs who hadn't hardened in the past week.

"We're here in hour 188, folks," Oscar announced, "and for a change of scenery, let's do some solo dancing!" The couples broke apart and began dancing about the floor separately. Some read the newspaper, some knitted, some flirted with other dancers. However, all remained moving.

Medda was holding a fan and waving it furiously in front of herself, drops of sweat rolling down her face. 'Christ, it must be 100 degrees today!" she said to no one in particular, running the heel of her hand across her forehead in a vain effort to stop the sweat.

"91 degrees actually," said Mush who was dancing nearby.

"Are you a human thermometer?"

"Oh, no ma'am," he explained politely. "You can tell the temperature by counting the beats of the crickets. Granted, my count may be off a bit," he added shyly.

Medda grinned a genuine grin. Despite her cynical exterior, she was a sucker for men like this. Charming, genuine, and, most importantly, a bit naive. Of course, looking at him, he seemed more like a boy than a man. "Well, they must be pretty raw tonight, kid. What's your name?"

"Mush Meyers. And you're Medda Larkson!"

"Very good. Are you psychic in addition to being able to commune with animals?"

"No, ma'am," he said blushing, " I just saw your name in the paper." He drew a page from the newspaper from his back pocket and showed it to her. "See here, it says 'Among the marathon dancers is pro Medda Larkson, guaranteed to heat things up.' What does that mean?"

Medda took the paper from him and ripped out the part with her name in it. "That I'm a pro," she answered, tucking the piece of paper into her dress. This drew Mush's attention to her bust line which was prominently being shown. At least, it was more prominently than Mush had ever seen on any other woman, save of course for his wife.

Feeling warmth rushing to his face, he stammered, "No, I mean the part about 'heating things up.'" Though by now he had a pretty good idea of what the blurb had meant.

"Oh that. Well, kid, let's just say it's good thing this pier is steel because once I do my specialty number this place is going to be in flames." She began once again fanning herself "In fact, it feels like it already is."

"You know, my wife, Precious–"

"Wife? You two look like you're fifteen."

"No, ma'am–"

"Kid, you can cut it with the "ma'am stuff. Just call me 'Medda.'"

"Oh, okay–Medda. As I was saying about me and Precious, we're both nineteen. See, back home in Utah, Precious entered a church beauty pageant. For her talent, she sang this song. Boy, just sitting there watching her sing, I got more excited than I ever had in my life."

Medda smirked, glancing down at Mush's groin area. "I see the excitement has worn off." Mush furrowed his brow, not understanding what she had just said. She shook her head, not wanting to corrupt the youth. "Sorry, go on, kid. What were you saying?"

"Oh, well I got so excited that when she came off stage I asked her to marry me, right there on the spot."

"Oh that happens to me all the time."

"But you see, because of all the trouble back home–we had both just lost our homes–no one wanted us to get married. So we left and had a quick marriage. Then Precious read about this marathon and we decided it was worth a shot."

Medda shook her head in disbelief. "Getting married during a depression? Couldn't you have waited until a happier time?"

"Well, we just couldn't stand having to wait. Besides, better to spend hard times with a loved one than to spend it alone, huh? I figure our love will help make the depression...well...I guess more bearable. Anyway, these marathon deals ain't bad!"

"Are you still excited?" Medda asked, her eyes shining with amusement. Mush nodded eagerly. "See, that's how you can tell the difference between an amateur and a pro: A pro doesn't get excited; a pro gets _other people _excited. And like the paper said, I'm a pro." She turned to dance off, giving Mush a small wave as she left. Mush stood stock still watching her go, feeling both embarrassed, giddy, and even a bit star struck. Behind him Precious tapped his shoulder, but he didn't even notice.

In front of the bandstand, David and Sarah were dancing near each other. Both continued playing up to the crowd, their eyes the only part of them that showed how tired they truly were. When Oscar took his place atop the bandstand, they practically rushed toward him. "Hey, Mr. Delancy," David called congenially, "me and Sarah were wondering if we could talk to you about a star spot."

"We've been working on some routines that will get the crowds going," Sarah cut in. Oscar barely acknowledged their presence. Instead he called over Kloppman. "Please," Sarah continued, desperation appearing in her eyes, "we could sure use a break and a star spot could get a sponsor much more easily."

"Not now, kids," Oscar said quickly as Kloppman approached. Disappointedly, Sarah pulled a peeved David back on to the dance floor.

"What is it?" Kloppman asked.

"Do you know yet if Fralinger is here? He said he'd be here today to check Daisy out, so I have to make sure she's looking her best."

"Right over there," Kloppman informed him, pointing to a man sitting center in the fourth row.

A smile played across Oscar's lips. "Perfect. I'm going to show off Daisy myself. If Fralinger is going to sponsor her, he needs to see her really go to town, and that Kelly guy is just going to hold her back." Oscar nodded his head in the direction of the Fralinger. "Go make sure he's content," he instructed before returning to the microphone. "Okay, kids, your single days are through. Get back to your partners," he ordered the contestants.

Dancers scrambled through the crowd of people, reuniting with their respective partners. "Miss me?" Jack asked jokingly as he and Daisy found each other and got back into their dance position. However, no sooner had they done so than Oscar took Daisy's hand and led her to the center of the dance floor.

"Folks, as I've said before, we have a genuine celebrity here before us. Miss Daisy Bloom, best known for giving Mr. Lindbergh a hero's kiss after he flew across the Atlantic." The audience and the other dancers applauded as Daisy curtseyed modestly. "Well, I think it would be a treat for the audience–not to mention a treat for myself– to show off Miss Bloom around the floor. What do you say, Miss Bloom?" Without even waiting for an answer, Oscar took her hand and pulled her into a dance position. He nodded to the band and a soft, lull tune began.

The two of them floated across the dance floor. Daisy, now with a partner who could compliment her rather than hinder her, moved smoothly across the floor. The pale white gown she wore swirled around her, giving her an almost angelic appearance. When the spotlight hit her, her entire body seemed to glow, particularly her face where soft tendrils of her hair hung, having fallen out of place. Oscar led her about the floor, twirling and dipping her. Near the back of the crowd of dancers, Jack watched. He felt neither anger nor jealousy nor sadness. He only felt proud to know that was his dance partner and that was the woman with whom he had won a free dance.

_That's her_, he thought, _that's the last girl I'll ever care about. Sure she's dancing with another man, but she's _my _dance partner. She's the first girl I've ever loved_, he mused with a grin, _and she'll be the last._


	5. Friendly Girl

**Disclaimer:** _Newsies_ is the property of Disney and _Steel Pier_ is the property of John Kander, Fred Ebb, David Thompson, Scott Ellis, and Susan Stroman. The song "Friendly Girl" was written by me, though I fully admit it is a rip-off of the song "Everybody's Girl" from the show.

* * *

When the song ended, the audience applauded for the fading star. Daisy smiled and took a gracious bow as Oscar grabbed the microphone from the bandstand. "Miss Daisy Bloom, ladies and gentlemen. Isn't she wonderful?" The audience cheered in agreement. "Yes sir, it just doesn't get more beautiful than that. Now dancers, let's see how many of you can top that!" He nodded to the band who started up again, this time playing a faster, jazzier tune. The couples rushed the dance floor, each wanting to be noticed by the crowd. Right in the center were Patrick and Valerie and David and Sarah. Patrick and David stood back to back and behind the fake grins they wore to attract the audience, the contempt each had for the other showed clearly in their eyes.

"Move! Smile!" Patrick hissed to David and Valerie respectively.

"Not a chance!" David replied smugly. "I told you my sister and I would get a sponsor before you. Just watch how it's done!" David grabbed Sarah's hand and together they performed their signature soft shoe routine. Coins from all directions were tossed at them. As they bent to scoop them up, David shot Patrick a smug grin.

Patrick could feel his cheeks reddening. Not to be outdone, he grabbed Valerie by her waist and flipped her over. Valerie's eyes widened and she squealed in protest as she flew into the air. As soon as she landed, she smacked Patrick's shoulder. "What in holy name do you think you're doing!"

"Shut up and grab coins," he barked, already on the floor grabbing at coins. As he went to pick up the last one, David hand shot out and grabbed it as well. The two struggled for a moment over the coin. "This is ours!" Patrick hissed.

"Break it up, you two!" Kloppman called as he walked over. Triumphantly, Patrick ripped the coin from David's hand and slipped it into his pocket. He then took the still peeved Valerie and led her to the opposite end of the dance floor.

The dancing continued at the same fast pace and all of the couples pushed themselves to keep up with the music. However, as it continued the contestants began dropping like flies. The female partner of couple #29 slipped while trying to perform a particularly tricky step. She lay on the ground, her partner holding on to her, as the stretcher was wheeled on to the dance floor. The male partner of couple #40 collapsed on top of his partner from exhaustion. She tried to hold him up, but her already worn out legs gave out from under her and both landed harshly on the floor.

Medda, ever the pro, was still pushing herself to ham it up for the crowd. Her face didn't show even an ounce of the weariness her body was feeling at the time. She beamed to the crowd, pulling Tony along for the ride. Kloppman approached her near the end of the hour.

"Medda, you have the star spot at 9:00pm."

Stopping in her tracks, Medda glared at the elderly man. "Can you tell me what that clock says?" she asked, pointing to a large clock hanging over the bandstand.

"It says that it is 8:55pm."

"So you waited until _now_ to tell me this?"

Nearby, Mush and Precious were dancing, the former trying to keep up with the stamina of the latter. Hearing the conversation between Medda and Kloppman, Precious danced her way toward where they stood. "You expect me to be ready in five whole minutes?" Medda ranted. "You know, I have half a mind to not even do it!"

At that Precious jumped in. "I'll do it!"

Medda turned around and caught sight of Precious. Her eyes narrowed a the young girl. "Not on your life, Peaches!" And with that, Medda stormed off the floor to the rest quarters. Kloppman sent Tony off to help her get ready before making his way to where Jack and Daisy were dancing.

"Excuse me kids, but Mr. Delancy wants to see you in his office, Miss Bloom."

"Right now?" She had been leaning against Jack, and she feared if she let go of him right now she'd collapse.

"It should only take a moment," he assured her. Gently taking her arm, he led her off the dance floor.

When Daisy entered the office, Oscar had a box of Fralinger's Taffy situated on his desk. "Look what I got for you," he said proudly, gesturing to the box.

She looked quizzically at it before answering, "Taffy?"

"No, Daisy, it's a sponsor! Fralinger is willing to sponsor you in this competition. With his support we can't lose! All you have to do is keep up the good work. I'll show you off in a star spot every now and then–"

"Oscar," Daisy cut in, "there is no way I'll be good enough for them. I can't do my old routines and what about my partner."

Oscar raised his hand to cut her off. "Don't worry, doll, I've got that all figured out. You're going to marry him."

"Marry him!" Daisy's eyes widened. "But...but we hardly even know each other..."

"No one has ever done a wedding at a marathon and they want something fresh."

"Well, how do you even know he'll ask me?" Daisy asked turning away from Oscar. "After all, I'm not the same Lovebird I used to be."

"_You_ could ask _him_."

She shook her head. "But he'll say no."

"So make him say yes."

"But–"

"Daisy," Oscar interjected, "we're doing this. If we don't we're lost. Can you imagine the crowds that will pour in to see this?"

Her cheeks reddened. "You make it sound more like a freak show than a wedding!"

"I guess in a way it is."

Her eyes glowered. "Oh, so what am I? The Bearded-Lady or the Reptile Woman?" she spat out. "I suppose you'll want me to sit in a cage and be stared at and prodded, right?"

"Christ, Daisy, that's not what I meant!" he yelled. "But baby, that's show business. Sometimes you have to do some degrading things to get back on top."

"I don't care about being back on top. I just want to go–"

"Go home," he finished with a sneer. "I know, you've told me many times. But Daisy, where do you think we'll get the money to eat and dress when we get home?" She stood there silently. "Baby, we've got to get this money, and if we have to do a song and dance to please Mr. Fralinger, then that's what we have to do. That's show business, you should know that by now." Seeing the uncertainty still in her eyes, he softened his tone and took her hands into his. "Look, Daisy, I know I've asked so much, but please, just do this one thing for me?"

She nodded gently. "Okay, Oscar, I'll do it."

"That's my girl," he said pulling her into his chest. "Cause who needs you more?"

She rested her head tenderly against his shoulder and whispered, "You do."

When the two inconspicuously entered from Oscar's office, Daisy found Jack among the crowd of dancers while Oscar made a beeline for the bandstand. With a nod from Kloppman, Oscar quieted the band for a moment. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we're very lucky here at the Steel Pier to have many talented young people among our dancers. Right now we have a treat for all of you. In the star spot, here is Miss Medda Larkson!"

As the crowd cheered, Medda entered from the rest quarters, now dressed in a short sleeved red gown. The front was a V-cut with a bit of black lace sewn into the cut, still allowing a nice amount of cleavage to be shown. The gown fell to her ankles, but the slit in it ran up to the top of her knee. If one were to take a close look at the garment they would see where the seams had burst previously and been haphazardly stitched back together as well as the fraying of the hemline. The black cotton gloves she wore on her hands went only half-way up her arm. Her curly hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a fair sized fake rose pinned in it. Medda smiled as she sauntered to the microphone that was set up in the middle of the dance floor near the front. Around her the remaining couples continued to dance. She opened her palms out to the crowd as if accepting their cheers.

"Hello!" she exclaimed into the microphone as the crowd began to quiet down. "I've always been a fan of Bizet. Do you know him? He, in my humble opinion, wrote one of the greatest heroines ever seen in opera." Medda struck a tango pose in sync with the drum beat that came from the band. "Her name was Carmen! Now I know some of you may think that Carmen was a bit free with her love...a bit loose...a bit..." She grinned as the audience waited for her to finish. "Well, to put it bluntly, a bit of a whore." At that, several gasps from both audience members and dancers could be heard as well as snickers and cat call of agreement.

Medda raised her hands to quiet them. "This is all true, I must admit...but I must ask what is so wrong with spreading your love around?" The band struck up a tune and the spotlight hit Medda as she began to sing. "I'm not ready for a steady, I've no glow for a beau, I don't sing for a ring, but I'm a really friendly girl!" She lifted the hem of her skirt a bit and bumped her hip to the side as the audience hooted and hollered. "I may be with Louie one night but then Huey another; I may go out with one man and then come home with his brother. I'm a really friendly girl!" Medda went into a little soft step as the music played on. Grabbing the microphone, she told the audience, "I could never be a cowhand's girl. Do you know why?"

"Why?" they asked.

"Cause I just can't keep my calves together!" Her response was met with laughs, groans, and a few embarrassed gasps. Medda continued, "I'm not one to be tied down, I enjoy being loose and free. If you need a good time girl I'm the one you want to see." She took a deep breath before belting her last line of, "I'm a really friendly girl!" On the button of her last note she struck her same tango pose, grinning smugly as the audience cheered. Taking a small bow she raised her hands toward them. "Hold on to those coins, cause you ain't seen nothing left!"

The band began a reprise of the song, but before Medda could even open her mouth, a cry was heard from the throng of dancers behind her. Everyone's attention flew to the right side of the floor where Precious McGuire was sitting on the dance floor rubbing her calf ferociously. Kneeling beside her was Mush, panic flashing in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I think I have a charlie horse!" she moaned.

The other dancers had began to dance over to where Precious and Mush were. Medda was livid and, try as she might, she could not get the attention of the audience. "Would you two quiet down?" she hissed to the couple, but no one took notice.

Oscar, seeing the moment as a way to play up the drama, ran onto the dance floor and grabbed the microphone from Medda, despite the woman's protests. "Folks, we seem to be having a bit of trouble here with couple #4. Miss Precious McGuire has been bitten by the ever frightening charlie horse." Oscar brought the microphone over to Precious and knelt down beside her. "Sweetie, can you show us where it hurts?"

Precious gave him the most pitiful pout she could muster up. "Uh-huh!" She hiked up the skirt of her dress, showing off a bit more of her leg than she had before. "It's right here!"

"Baby!" Mush said, yanking her skirt down. Nearby Kloppman was counting down how much longer they had.

"Ouchie!" Oscar said into the microphone. "Little Miss Precious is down to five seconds! Can she make it?" As he said that, Precious stood up hesitantly. Still holding on to Mush she did a few dance steps.

"Look! I can dance again!" she shouted gleefully.

"Folks, she is back in the game! Why don't you show your support by throwing some coins, folks?" Coins from the audience flew toward Precious and Mush. The former scrambled to grab them while the latter stood there dumbstruck.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Precious said smiling sweetly.

Mush grabbed her arm. "Precious, what was that?"

"Mush, just grab the money! Do want to get our house back or not?"

Mush reluctantly obeyed, though out of the corner of his eye he spotted a very irate Medda storming back to where Tony was standing. She yanked the rose from her hair and tossed it to the side of the floor.

During their fifteen minute break Medda went outside and sat on a bench near the tank where the Horse Diving attraction took place during the day. The night was as humid as the day and the moonlight blended in with the lights from the boardwalk. With one hand she held a half-smoked cigarette and with the other she rubbed her knee which was beginning to get sore.

She heard someone approaching as she took a long drag from behind but was too tired to look and see who it was. "Um...Miss Medda?" Her head whipped around and she saw a nervous Mush wringing his hands together. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she blew the smoke out quickly though her pursed lips.

"That was a great act, kid," she said sarcastically. "You almost had me fooled."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know she would do that."

"Oh save it," she snapped. Seeing his hurt face, she played it off with a shrug. "That's life. I should have known better anyhow."

Mush neared her, taking her rose as well as a handful of coins out of his pocket. He held them out to her. "I wanted to give you your flower and your money," he explained.

Medda took the rose, but eyed the coins suspiciously, making no move to take them. "What's the catch?"

"There isn't one. You earned it and I want you to have it," he insisted pressing the coins into her hand until she relented and took them. "You sang real nice."

"Oh stop," Medda said with forced modesty.

" No really. You really are one of the pros. I'm just a bit upset I didn't see how it ended."

Medda shrugged. "It was just a little bump at the end of the last verse and then walk off. You didn't miss much."

"Well, just the same I'd have liked to see it."

Medda grinned as she stood up. "Well I'd be glad to show it to you," she said softly, tossing her cigarette on to the ground and stomping it out. "In return, maybe you could tell me more about those crickets and how they rub their little legs together," she suggested, walking up to him.

Mush felt his heart racing and his face burning up. "I...I think that may be a bit more excitement than I'm looking for." Medda was a bit disappointed, but simply shrugged and turned to go. "I would like to walk you home though," Mush said.

"Fine," she said flipping a coin to him. "How about you buy me some cotton candy? I could use something pink and fluffy right about now."

* * *

**AN: Just to let you guys know, the next chapter will very likely be longer than the previous chapter have been. Also, I love reviews, even if it's just you saying you think I suck at life.**


	6. Lovebird

Daisy was sitting along the pool of water used for the diving horses. Her shoes and stockings were sitting next to her as she dangled her blistered feet in the water. It was pushing 9:00am, but there was still a golden haze in the sky. She smiled as a breeze blew by, relishing the short respite. Though her face looked serene, her mind was racing, fretting over her situation.

Oscar wanted her to convince Jack to propose. Her husband wanted another man to propose to her. Her smile dissolved, leaving her with a sad, sinking feeling. Was it worth it? Was it worth the publicity to pressure a man she's only known for two weeks into marrying her? Was it worth it to humiliate herself even more than she already had? Was it worth it to humiliate _him_, a sweet, innocent guy who hadn't done anything except get her out of a bind? Oscar would say yes, of course, it was. He would remind her of the house they had left behind and of the increasingly depressing headlines. Worse, he would remind her of how far she had fallen from stardom and how much it had hurt. Oscar was manipulative like that, she knew. She wasn't stupid. He would say and do anything to get what he needed. Daisy, though, always knew that he meant well and that he did it for both of them. At least she hoped so.

She still had ten minutes to rest and she knew when she returned Oscar was expecting to see Jack fall down to one knee.

"Don't you want to sleep?" Speak of the devil. Jack was making his way toward her, hands stuffed in his ratted jacket. "I thought you had gone to the resting quarters." He squatted down next to her.

"I couldn't sleep," she told him, trying hard not to look in his eyes. She was afraid they would betray to him what she had to do. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"I guess if you've got to think, this is the place to do it. No noisy tourists or squawking seagulls. Just the lapping of the water."

"Maybe right now, but you should see it at noon when the horses dive. The stands are packed."

He looked dubious. "Diving horses?"

"Sure, haven't you ever seen that?" He shook his head. "A horse runs up there," she told him, pointing to a high scaffold, "where a woman is waiting. When the horse gets to a certain point the woman jumps on his back and the two dive down into the water." She shrugged. "I don't understand it, but the crowds love it."

Jack ran over to the ramp where the horse entered. "How do they train the horse to dive?"

"They don't. They situate him at the ramp entrance and tell him to go. He runs on cue and…" she trailed off, looking back up at the scaffold. "I guess he can't turn back so he just jumps." She pulled her feet out of the pool of water. "I can't imagine having to do that."

"What, dive on the back of a horse?"

She shook her head. "I can't imagine being told to run and having no idea where I was going, no idea of what was lying ahead. And then to have to jump…"

"It's a bit like life, isn't it?"

"How do you figure that, flyboy?"

He took a seat beside her, removing his shoes and socks and placing his feet in the soothing water. "You never know where you're going or what is lying ahead. Sometimes you just have to take the chance and jump. You can't turn back."

"You can always turn back in life," she insisted. "Well, most of the time you can. You can choose to play it safe."

"And if playing it safe doesn't make you happy?"

She looked at him speechlessly, wanting to reply, but not sure how to. Finally she muttered, "Sometimes you have to sacrifice happiness for safety."

He shrugged. "I guess it's just the daredevil in me. I _thrive_ on danger and uncertainty." He hopped up, holding his hand out to Daisy. "You never saw my big finale act at the show, though, did you?"

"No," she admitted, "I had other things on my mind. Perhaps you could explain it to me?"

"Well, it starts with a girl on the wing of my plane," he explained. He took her hand and led her to a nearby bench. He helped her step on to it before sitting down in the center of it. "I would take off with her safely strapped on. Of course, the audience doesn't realize she is," he added with a wink. "We would go flying across the sky…when suddenly a darkly dressed man would appear and jump on to the wing. The girl would scream and cry out for me to help her." He looked at her pointedly.

"Oh, help," she said lamely, trying to play along. "Save me from the darkly dressed man."

Jack snickered. "She usually has a bit more terror in her voice, but that will do." He jumped up from his seat, standing on the bench and walking out toward Daisy carefully as though he were on a tightrope. "I would put the plane on automatic and walk across the wing to where she and the man were. _I_ was _not_ secured to the plane," he told her, beaming with pride. "Just as I got to her and it looked as though all would be well, the man would grab her, threatening to jump with her." He stood still in his place, watching Daisy and the non-existent villain. "I'd pause, uncertain of what to do. At this point her clothing is whipping around in the wind, showing off a thigh or something here and there, and many of the men in the audience are whooping, hoping I don't save her _too_ soon."

Daisy smirked and gamely lifted the skirt of her dress, showing off a flash of her thigh. "How am I doing, flyboy?"

Jack grinned, though Daisy caught sight of a blush in his cheeks. "You're doing fine." He crept toward her slowly. "I'd wait until she was holding on to the top of the plane and I'd jump at the man, tackling him, both of us rolling and about to fall off of the wing." At this Daisy looked both nervous and impressed. "Then, just as it looked like we'll both fly off the plane soars over the safety net and the man falls off into the net—we weren't much higher off the ground than your normal trapeze artists," he explained. "The woman by this time is about to faint and I get to her just in time," Jack sidled up next to Daisy, gently placing his hands on her waist, "and catch her in my arms."

Daisy felt her heart racing and knew that she was treading on dangerous ground. Still, she allowed Jack to lift her up in his arms. She allowed her arms to wrap around his neck and her head to rest against his shoulder. She allowed him to carry her over to the other end of the bench. "Then I'd place her in the seat before sliding back into my seat and landing the plane." There weren't a front and back seat on the bench so instead Jack sat down and placed Daisy on his lap. "We were the hit of the show."

For a moment neither of them moved nor spoke. Still, in the silence they said much more to each other than they could have with words. Daisy opened her mouth, feeling her throat going dry. "Jack," she whispered, "I—"

A shrill whistle sounded behind them. They looked back to see Kloppman approaching, beckoning to them. "Five minutes! If I were you I'd get back in."

The pair reluctantly pulled away from each other and, grabbing their shoes and stockings and socks, walked back to the ballroom, ready for, yet dreading, their return to the marathon.

"What were you going to say?" Jack asked.

Daisy closed her eyes, not wanting to ruin the wonderful moment they had just shared. "Nothing."

The tally board above the bandstand showed that it was Hour 288 and only 52 couples remained. Those still in the competition, even the pros, were visibly wearing away. Women rested their heads against their partners' shoulders, not out of any want of intimacy, but out of weariness. Medical assistance was nearby now more than it had been before. The marathon had already had its fair share of sprained ankles, concussions, and busted knees.

When Daisy entered with Jack she caught sight of Oscar. His eyes asked her if she had done the deed. She averted her eyes to avoid having to answer the question. Instead, she pulled Jack to the back of the dance floor, trying to blend in with the other dancers.

"Folks," Oscar announced into his microphone as the band began to start up once again, "we are now entering our 288th hour of the marathon, but our remaining couples are still going at it strong." He was grateful that his listeners couldn't actually see the pale and fatigued dancers. "However, before we start this hour, I believe one of our couples has an exciting announcement they would like to share with you all. Couple #39: Mr. Jack Kelly and Miss Daisy Bloom!" he called out, trying to locate them in the crowd.

Daisy's mouth was agape, and she grabbed Jack's hand. _No!_, her mind screamed, _Oscar, don't do this!_ But it was useless. She knew it was when Oscar's eyes looked at her, filled with determination. She tried to pull Jack back into the crowd, but the young man was already making his way to the bandstand, pulling her along in the process. "Here they are, folks!" Oscar announced with pleasure. "Now, Jack, I understand you have a special announcement?" Everyone in the room looked at Jack expectantly. Everyone, that is, except for Daisy, who was too busy looking away in embarrassment. "I think there was a question you wanted to ask Miss Bloom," Oscar supplied. His knuckles were white as they gripped the handle of the microphone as he held it down to Jack and, though he smiled, he was visibly nervous.

Maybe Jack understood what Oscar was trying to say or maybe he was happy to finally be given this chance. Or maybe, just maybe, he was some secret mind reader. "Yes, Oscar, there is," he said softly into the microphone. "I wish I were better prepared…" he gently pulled Daisy in front of him, sinking down to one knee. "Daisy Bloom," he said as the young woman began to grow increasingly alarmed, "will you marry me?"

From the crowd were soft murmurings of excitement and surprise as they all waited to hear her response. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, to decline, to tell him it was all a big misunderstanding. She wanted him to know that this wouldn't be what he thought it would be and that it was best for him to simply forget he had even asked. But Daisy could feel Oscar's cold stare and could hear his harsh words, telling her that this was their last chance to make a proper life for themselves. "Yes…" she said softly, though her face held no sign of actual happiness.

The crowd broke into applause and cheers as Jack swept Daisy into his arms, an embrace she didn't return. "Well, folks, can you believe that!" Oscar cried incredulously into the microphone as though he were completely surprised by the turn of events. "It just goes to show that anything can happen here at Steel Pier. There are many prizes to be won here, and not just the grand prize of 2,000 dollars!" Kloppman appeared beside Oscar, whispering something in his ear. "Wow! Our sponsor, Fralinger's Taffy, has agreed to fund the wedding for these lovebirds!" He paused, as though remembering something. "Say…didn't you have a song called 'Lovebird,' Miss Bloom?" Daisy, still standing numbly in her place, nodded mutely. "Well, why don't you treat us to a performance?" The crowd applauded in agreement as Oscar stepped to the side and bade her to come on stage.

As angry and humiliated as Daisy was feeling, she could never turn down a chance to perform. Music had been her support through all of the bad times, making her forget that she was almost broke and that her husband cared more about making a buck than he did about her feelings. She didn't crave stardom – though she had to admit it was nice – but rather she craved any chance she had to sing, even for an audience of one. "I would love to, Mr. Delancy," she said, smiling sweetly for the audience. He gave Jack's hand a final squeeze before letting go and taking Oscar's open hand as he helped her on to the band stand.

As Jack looked up at the lovely starlet, he thought back to the day at the air show when he had won his dance.

"_And the raffle winner, who gets twenty-five dollars _and_ a dance with Lindy's Loverbird, is number…52! If you are the proud owner of ticket number 52 please come to the stage," the emcee of the show announced. A meager crowd was situated around the stage waiting for Daisy Bloom to appear. On the very out skirt of the crowd was Jack. He was staring dumbstruck at the ticket he held in his hand._

"_I won," he whispered. He continued to stare at it, double checking to make sure the ticket was indeed number 52. "I won!" he stated, slightly louder. _

"_And now, the little lady you've all come to see…Miss Daisy Bloom!" The crowd applauded as Daisy was led onto stage. From the audience Daisy's gown looked glamorous, but anyone standing near her could see the wear and tear in the dress, just as they could see the desperation in her eyes which she hid with the brightest smile she could muster. Jack watched in awe as she took the microphone, beaming as the crowd continued to clap for her._

"_Hey, Kelly!" A hand clapped on his shoulder and he looked to see Bobby, one of the other pilots. "You're on."_

"_Hey, Bobby, I won!" He lifted the ticket for Bobby to see. "I get to dance with Daisy Bloom!"_

"_That's great," he replied, trying to pull the enamored Jack away from the crowed, "but right now you've got to perform."_

"_Nah, I'm not up until after Joe's routine."_

"_They changed the order. Joe's got a bad case of stomach flu and he's heaving in the tent. Mister Harrison told me to get you ready for right after Miss Bloom finishes her number. Now c'mon."_

"_No," Jack insisted, "I still have to claim my ticket."_

"_You've got three weeks, Kelly. You can claim it after your routine." Jack still stood in his place, watching Daisy with a lovesick smile. "You can't afford to lose your job," Bobby reminded him. "I can hold your ticket for you while you're up there."_

_Jack snatched the ticket from Bobby's reach. "You think I'm gonna trust you with this ticket?" he asked with a good natured grin. He kissed the ticket before tucking it into an inside pocket of his jacket. "This thing isn't leaving my side until I claim it."_

Instinctively, Jack's hand went to the same inside pocket where the same ticket was sitting. He felt secure as he ran his finger across the ripped edges of the paper ticket. It was his and no one else's and that was the important thing.

_And soon, very soon, I'll claim it._

* * *

It was 6:00pm, hour 321 of the marathon, and the number of couples had decreased to 33. The audience of the ballroom was great and all of the couples were putting their best foot forward in attempts to earn coins from spectators or, better yet, sponsors from business men. Every couple was trying to out do the others with newer moves, more inventive moves, riskier moves, and better moves than anyone else. They would get the prize or die trying.

"One week until the wedding kiddies," Oscar told Jack and Daisy as they danced by the band stand. Daisy was practically asleep, her head resting against Jack's shoulder. "Fralinger wants a big spectacle and wants all of the women to wear cellophane gowns."

"Why," Daisy asked as she stifled a yawn. "Because their taffy comes wrapped in cellophane?"

"Because it's cheaper than anything else at this point," Oscar joked, waving the couple off.

"Wow…a wife," Jack commented with a smile. "Never had one before. You?"

"Have I had a wife? No," Daisy said half as a joke and half to change the subject.

"No, I mean have you ever had a husband before?"

There was a pregnant pause as Daisy thought about the best answer to give. She stalled by forcing a yawn while considering her options. "Yes," she said finally, trying to keep it as vague as possible.

Jack, however, wasn't about to be deterred. "What happened to him?"

Daisy didn't look at Jack, but her arms wrapped around his neck more tightly. "He…he's gone." And it really was the truth, in a way. The man she now knew as her husband wasn't the man she had married. The man she had married was a kind and loving man who always put her first. The man she called her husband now was only that man on the surface; inside he was a conniving crook who would sell his soul for money – and probably had! No, there was no denying that Oscar was now just a shell of his former self. The thought made her want to cry.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jack exclaimed as he dug for a handkerchief. "I shouldn't have pried."

"It's okay, Jack," she assured. "Sometimes I quite enjoy thinking about him."

"He was a very lucky man."

She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, trying to keep her mind on other things. She was in luck because at that moment a cry came from nearby.

"Mush!" Little Precious Meyers had her arms wrapped around her young husband's torso as he slumped forward. It was almost comical seeing the petite girl trying to hold up the muscular man. "Mush, sweetie, you have to stand! I can't hold you up!" All of the couples were dancing toward the Meyers, watching curiously. Many of them, as guilty as it made them, were hoping and praying that the two would fall.

Oscar had wasted no time jumping down from the band stand. "Well, folks, it looks as though Couple #4 is having a bit of trouble!" he announced with glee. "Kloppman is watching carefully. If Mush Meyers falls he will be out. His lovely wife will have twenty-four hours to find a new partner, unless, of course, she choose to leave with her husband."

"Mush! You need to stand right now!" Precious screeched, weakly beating against her husbands back. "Now!"

With one final yell from Precious, Mush toppled over, his body slamming against the floor. Precious cried out. Whether it was from seeing her husband faint or from his being eliminated was unclear, but she was one very upset young lady. "Mush!"

A medical team quickly made their way onto the dance floor with a gurney. They loaded the young man and rolled him to a back room as Precious watched on. The girl was near tears. Oscar approached from behind her, patting her shoulder in his best attempt at sympathy. "Don't worry, Miss Meyers! You can still win this competition…if you can find another partner by this time tomorrow." He crooked his index finger beneath her chin. "Keep your hopes up!"

From the band came the harsh clanging of a bell. "Well, kids, do you know what that means?" Oscar asked, his eyes blazing with anticipation. "That, folks, means that it is time for the sprints!" From the crowd of dancers came various moans of dread, shouts of anger, and expressions of puzzlement. Some of the more tired looking women looked to be on the verge of tears. "Our sprints tonight are being sponsored by Nedick's who has generously donated athletic suits for all of our dancers. We have set up changing areas on both sides of the band stand. Boys to my right and girls to my left," he instructed. The crowd broke in half as the weary dancers stumbled to the waiting running suits.

"I'm sorry, but could someone please explain to me what is going on," Valerie begged as she was pushed forward with the crowd of women. "What are sprints?"

Medda handed a pair of running shorts and an athletic shirt to the women, a slight hint of sympathy showing in her eyes. "You put these on, darling. Then you and your partner run around the dance floor for ten minutes with the rest of us."

"If you fall you're out," Sarah added as she unbuttoned her gown, showing a white cotton teddy beneath, "and if you're one of the last two couples you're out."

Valerie stood still in her place, garments in hand. Her cheeks were blazing red and she was shaking. "We…we're supposed to unchanged right here? In front of everyone?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"That's right," one of the other girls replied as she pulled on her shorts. "If you want that prize you gotta be willing to stoop a little."

"But that…that's degrading!"

Medda let out a humorless laugh. "Dear, where do you think you are?" She pulled on the athletic shirt and glanced in the mirror. The shorts were too large, as was the shirt. "Lord, I look like I escaped from the asylum!"

Valerie was sitting on the bench, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Two women beside her tried to console her. "My family would never approve of this!" she cried. "I can't do it!"

Daisy knelt in front of the girl and gently took her hands. "Yes you can, Valerie."

"I'm not like the rest of you!" she snarled. "I'm not willing to go to such lengths for money."

Daisy was taken aback. She would never admit it, but Valerie's comment stung, mostly because she knew it was true. "Valerie," she continued, trying not to let the hysterical woman get to her, "these are desperate times. No one will think less of you." Valerie looked back and forth between Daisy and the clothing. "We're in this together."

Over on the men's side Spot was dressed and running in place. He bent down, stretching his calves. "If any of you get in my way I will run you down!" he proclaimed, looking pointedly at David who was pulling on his shirt. "That goes double for you, Mouth."

David threw him a bemused grin. "Don't worry about me. My sister and I have run enough of these to know how to handle ourselves." He placed the belt around his waist. On the belt was a handle for the female partners to hold during the sprints.

Tony was sitting, looking at his reflection in uncertainty. "What is this again?"

"The sprints!" Spot shouted as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's too damn early for them, though. I've never seen a marathon do the sprints before Hour 350." He glanced suspiciously at the crowd of men. "They must really want to thin out the competition."

"So what do we do?" Tony asked.

"You run, dumbbell! You run and make sure you're still standing at the end."

A whistle sounded from the floor signaling the end of the changing period. The dancers emerged from the impromptu changing areas and found their partners in the crowd. Tape had been place along the floor indicating the "start line" and the couples pushed their way to it, each wanting to be in front.

Spot glanced to the side and saw the Jacobs siblings. "Remember what I said. You pull me down…"

"I think if anyone pulls you down it'll be that partner of yours," David said. He gestured to Valerie who looked as though she may collapse at any moment.

"Not another peep out of you!" Spot ordered. There was a brief pause and then…

"Peep." David smiled with indignation. Spot's enraged face only made his grin widen.

Oscar retook his place on the band stand, looking with glee at the couples who stood, waiting for his signal, his _command_. "I think we're about ready for our first sprints of the marathon!" The crowd broke into applause and shouts, obviously ready to see some painful eliminations. "Our couples will have to run around the dance floor for ten minutes together. The two couples in the back at the end of those ten minutes will be eliminated along with any couples who fall along the way." One could swear his smile was borderline sadistic as he explained the rules. "I hope you all have been saving your energy for this, because you are going to need it!" Kloppman took his place next to Oscar, whistle in hand. "On your mark…get set…"Oscar paused, giving the spectators and dancers a teasing grin. "…GO!"

With that, a stampede of people made their way over the tapped line, pushing and shoving as they ran the first lap around the floor. After only one minute all of the couples were still standing, though at least half of them were teetering. As they went into their third lap, the female half of Couple #11 tripped, dragging her partner down with her.

"Couple #11 has suffered a fall!" Oscar announced as Kloppman gave the couple the "out" sign. "How sad!"

Seconds later Couple # 22 fell, falling into a fetal position as the other couples ran or jumped over them. The male duo of # 90 didn't jump high enough and he and his partner fell atop the other couple, resulting in a painful tangle of arms and legs. The crowd at it up, shouting for more.

As the eighth minute neared, Daisy felt her legs throbbing in pain. She willed her body to ignore the pain and go on, to not give up. Her calves felt as though they were turning to jelly and she was having a hard time breathing, but in her mind she was thinking of Twelve Ocean Drive, of _home_. Unfortunately, there was only so far she could push her body based only on that thought, and, as she and Jack rounded the corner, she felt her legs buckle beneath her.

Jack noticed the movement beside him and caught Daisy's eyes. The following moments were practically in slow motion for the two. He saw her body slumping forward, her ankle turning under. He saw the fear, desperation, and weariness in her eyes, her silent plea for help. _Not yet_, he thought, _you can't fall now! It's too soon._ His arms slid down her back, cradling her into his body before she could fall any further. Couples ran past them, but they had been far enough ahead that they could afford to take a moment to right themselves.

As quickly as the slow motion had come, it went and they were back in real time. Daisy quickly grounded herself, still holding Jack for support. "Thank you," she whispered, once again taking the handle on his belt. Her legs were still shaky and her chest was still tight, but she had a slight second wind and was ready to finish the race.

And she would finish this, no matter what the cost.

* * *

**AN:** Sorry! I know it's been a while since my last update! One of my other fics got a second wind and I started writing in the _NCIS_ fandom and…you really don't care, do you? Anywho, we're right about at the halfway mark for this, so I'm hoping to crank out the rest of the chapters by the end of the year (but don't hold me to it). As always, reviews in any form are appreciated!


	7. Dream or Nightmare?

It was just before 6:00am and the girls' quarters – lit only by the golden haze of the impending sunrise – had an eerily quiet atmosphere. All of the girls had opted for rests and they all were sleeping soundly, having passed out before their heads hit the pillows. The sprints had been wearing to all of the couples. Even Spot had shown a bit of tiring after it was all done. As dawn approached, some of the dancers were literally sleep walking their way through the marathon.

If one were to glance into Daisy's bunk, they would notice how utterly peaceful she looked. On the dance floor, even _her_ demeanor had grown ragged and low as the marathon raged on. In sleep, though, she was smiling softly, her muscles relaxed. It could have been because she was getting a much needed respite (fifteen minutes was better than nothing), or it could have been the dream that was running through her mind as she lay there slumbering.

_She looked around the empty, white space. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she knew she wanted to find it. Every sore muscle and bruised shin had dissipated and she felt as fresh and as strong as she had ten years earlier._

"_Daisy…"_

_She didn't need to turn around to see who was speaking to her. She knew that dulcet voice. She knew that body and that scent._

_His hand enveloped hers and he gently tugged her arm. "Come on."_

"_Jack? Where?"_

_He didn't answer. He simply pulled her with him through the white space of nothingness. A biplane slowly came into focus. It shone in the light, possibly made of solid gold. The wings were embellished with gems of every kind, and in the center of the propeller was the biggest diamond Daisy had ever seen. Jack helped her into the front seat of the plane, taking his place behind her. She had never before ridden in a plane, but the thought of taking off at that moment didn't frighten her. _

"_Where are we going?" she called back to him. She looked down from her seat. Where there had been white, there appeared all of Atlantic City, bustling with people and attractions._

"_Anywhere," he replied. "Anywhere that isn't here."_

_Daisy sat back, smiling at the thought…the thought of escaping it all. Escape was a word she had often considered; it was an action she had never attempted. Half-hearted attempts, yes, to make Oscar go home with her and return to their normal lives; she had never, though, made the attempt to leave by herself. The thought of it scared her beyond anything else. In dreams, though, you can do whatever you want and not be afraid. Besides, she wasn't alone; she had Jack._

"_Look at them," she commented with a hint of glee in her tone. "They're all running around, using entertainment and booze to pretend like the country isn't in trouble…like their lives aren't as bad as the lives of those around them." She leaned back, letting her own proclamation sink in. "And we're up here…free from it all!"_

"_The sky is always free. It doesn't get very crowded up here."_

"_You know, I think I like the Steel Pier much more from this angle. I'd rather look at it than actually experience it."_

"_Don't you miss the marathon?" he teased, well aware of her feeling regarding this and every marathon she had ever done._

_Daisy laughed. "No, thank you! If I could stay here forever, I would!"_

"_So why can't you?" he asked, his mouth right beside her ear._

_She furrowed her brow. "You're kidding, right?" she asked. _

"_No, I'm not. Why can't you stay here?"_

"_Well, for one thing, we'll run out of fuel at some point."_

"_I don't mean here in the air; I mean why can't you stay where you are happy?"_

"_Jack…I have to make a living…"_

"_You call running yourself ragged for the chance at winning money a 'living'?"_

"_Better than starving in a Hooverville."_

"_So you'd sacrifice your happiness?"_

_She closed her eyes, remnants of their discussion at the horse diving tank coming back to her. "I told you…sometimes you need to sacrifice happiness for safety."_

_The plane jolted, causing Daisy to jump. The ride had been smooth sailing, but now they were nose-diving down into the ocean. "What happened?" she screamed, grasping the sides of the plane._

"_The plane has a hitch," Jack said monotonously. He didn't seem at all distressed by the fact that they were about to crash._

_Daisy looked in fear at the approaching water. The wind whipped around her, blowing her hair into her face. "Do something!"_

"_Nothing _I_ can do, Daisy. Only you can do it."_

_She could hardly comprehend his statement as they rushed downward. Just as they were about to torpedo into the water, she let out a screech._

"Stop!" Daisy shot up to a sitting position, sweat gleaning on her skin.

"Bad dreams, hon?" Medda asked. She seemed to be the only woman left in the room other than Daisy.

"I…I _thought_ it was a nice dream. It turned into a nightmare."

"Sounds like my last boyfriend."

"Two minutes!" Kloppman's voice rang out from the hallway. "Two minutes!"

Medda grabbed Daisy's hand and pulled her up. "C'mon, doll. Your prince is waiting."

* * *

The tally board above the bandstand proclaimed that they were in the 333rd hour and only 26 couples remained. At that early hour, the stands were nearly empty, so the dancers weren't nearly as self-conscious as they entered the dance floor, fresh from their beds. Women's curls hung loose around their face, most of them hadn't bothered to put on make-up, and clothing of both men and women was in disarray.

Precious stepped out carrying two new numbers. She had only twelve more hours to find a new partner and she was busy scoping out the potential partners. She'd hoped a good, strong one would become available, but at that point she was willing to take whatever she could get. She had already spotted a number of women who looked as though they would drop at any moment. She would be ready to pounce on the remaining man before the woman even hit the floor.

"Precious!" someone called out to her from the other side of the dance floor. When she turned, she spotted Mush standing there, looking as good as new.

"Mush!" she squealed, running to her young husband. She enveloped him in a hug, forgetting that he had passed-out only hours earlier. When it dawned on her, she immediately sprang back.

"You should be in bed," she scolded. "After last night, you need to rest!"

"Precious," he said softly. "I didn't really pass out last night. I was faking it."

The young girl's disposition changed from worry to shock. "Faking it? Why would you willingly take yourself out the competition?"

He took her hands in his own and pulled her off to the side. "Look, Precious, I think this was a bad idea."

"Bad idea? Mush, we were looking at $2000! I may even get to sing on the radio!"

"That isn't so important! We were happy when we came into here with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Now…now it's different. I wasn't happy dancing like a monkey for crowds and scrounging money off the dance floor."

"Oh, but you were happy sleeping in packed shelters and eating portions that wouldn't satisfy a mouse? You were happy losing everything and not knowing what each day would bring?"

Mush looked at her sadly. "I was happy being with you, Precious. I don't need a lot of money or fame to be happy."

He released her hands, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to the back door. "I got my stuff packed. I saved the money that we were able to pick up and I think it could get us at least to Pennsylvania. You got family there, I know. They'd let us stay at least for a while."

"No, Mush…no, I can't leave! The wedding is coming up and Mr. Delancy is letting me sing."

'Precious! I'm not more important than singing on the radio?"

For a moment, the woman wasn't sure how to respond. She looked back and forth between her young husband the dance floor. "Look…just let me stay until Friday," she begged. "Then we can leave. I may even get some sponsorships if they like my song enough!"

"Precious," Mush said uncertainly. "I don't have a place to stay."

"And where would you be staying if we left?" she asked. "This way, we'll probably make more money. We may be able to stay at an inn on the way."

He looked into his wife's begging eyes, not wanting to say "yes," but not having the heart to say "no." He was beginning to wish he'd never heard about this stupid marathon. It did things to people.

"Friday," he repeated. "Then we leave."

"Of course, Mush," she said obediently, pushing herself up to kiss him on the cheek.

"I love you," he said just as the one minute-warning bell rang.

"I've got to go!" she said. "Can't do anything if I don't have a partner!" And with that she was off.

Daisy emerged from the doorway and immediately found Jack from within the crowd. Her mind was still on her dream, her legs still a bit shaky. She had to get it together and focus on the task at hand.

"Good sleep?" he asked as he took her into his arms.

"I've had better," she admitted.

One of the other couples bumped harshly against her, knocking her into Jack. She let out a small yelp and he instinctively pulled her closer.

"Sorry," the man said in passing.

"Are you alright?"

Daisy glanced down. "I'm fine. Just a little bruise."

"Time's like this I miss the sky," he told her as they worked through the crowd to an emptier area of the dance floor. "The sky is always free. It doesn't get crowded up there."

Daisy's mouth fell agape as she recalled her dream. Was it merely a coincidence?

"We're counting down, kids!" Kloppman called out. "In three…two…one!"

She didn't have time to think about it. Her focus needed to be on her dancing…and on that cash prize.

* * *

By 1:00pm Precious was still out a partner. She walked in and out of the dance floor, watching with an eagle eye for any woman who might be on the brink of falling. There had been a few close calls, a few stumbles, but none of the women had fallen or stopped dancing. She was beginning to grow anxious.

"So when do we go on, Sarah?" David asked.

Sarah regarded her brother with worry. He had been acting strangely for past seven hours or so; making strange comments, laughing for no reason, and even having a couple of hallucinations. Currently, he seemed to think that the two of them were waiting to audition for a show.

"David, I told you," she said softly, but firmly. "We're not auditioning for a show. We're in the marathon, remember?"

He blinked a couple of times as though trying to clear his vision. Then he gave her a big grin. "Well, of course I remember! Why would you think I didn't?"

"You were asking about our audition slot, David."

"I'm completely on top of things, Sarah."

She knew he hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Jack had found her during one of the fifteen minute breaks to warn her that David had been restless, mumbling in his sleep about venues the two of them had played in the past and talking to various producers for whom they had auditioned. She knew he was on the brink of exhaustion, but they had to keep going.

"David, get some sleep," she pleaded. "I'll hold you up."

On the other side of the dance floor, Precious seemed to have found a potential partner. The man's current partner was holding on to him for dear life as she slumped down. Her feet weren't so much dancing as they were dragging back and forth.

"C'mon, baby," the man whispered. "You've got to get moving or they're gonna throw you out!"

Kloppman ran over, having caught sight of the struggle. "I'm giving you ten seconds to get back on your feet."

"It seems that couple #58 is struggling!" Oscar announced, gleeful that, after almost twelve hours, the marathon was getting interesting again. "Will the little lady get herself back up in time?"

"Five…four…three…" Kloppman glanced down at his watch, counting down the seconds. "Two…one!"

As if on cue, the woman fell to the ground, barely conscious. The man barely had time to react before Precious jumped into action, pinning a new number to his back and another one to her own. She grabbed his hands and pulled him away, allowing him only a passing glance at his fallen partner as she was loaded on to a gurney and wheeled into medic.

"Well," Oscar said, "one woman's loss is another woman's gain. It looks like Ms. Precious Meyers has put herself back into the game." He gave the young woman a wink, causing her to giggle. Then, Oscar heard Sarah whispering furiously to David. He turned his attention on the brother-sister team, hoping to see some real drama.

"David!" Sarah hissed. "David, stop!"

"Sis, don't be rude to Mr. Henderson! He's waiting to see our number!"

"David, please!"

"What's going on here?" Kloppman asked.

David didn't regard either of them, still facing forward and talking to the non-existent Mr. Henderson. "For our first number, we'd like to do a little step we create ourselves!"

"He's out!" Kloppman said.

"No!" Sarah cried. "No, please! He's still dancing!"

"He's gone loony."

"Please!"

Spot and Valerie were dancing near the trio and heard the argument. Spot gently grabbed Kloppman's arm and pulled him back. "Come on, give the guy a break," he said in an uncharacteristically soft tone. "They're still dancing."

"Rules are rules, Conlon. If he's nutty he's got to go!" Kloppman grabbed David's shoulder and began pulling him to the door. David, though, was having none of it. He pulled himself back with great fervor.

"You can't treat us like this!" he spat out to no one in particular. "We come here…we beat ourselves senseless to audition for you….to perform for you! You can't treat us like some performing monkeys."

Sarah tried to pull her brother back. "David, we have to go."

"I am a human being! My sister is a human being! We are no less than you are!" He tore his number from his back and began ripping it to pieces. The other couples, having heard David's outburst, turned their attention toward him as he had his breakdown. "I am done! I am done with all of this!"

The band and crowd grew quiet, with all eyes of David and Sarah. It dawned on him what had just happened and what he had just done. With a final look to Oscar, he whispered, "I am done," and walked off the floor. After a beat, Sarah removed her own number, crumpled it and dropped it on the floor, and followed behind him.

Everyone was silent and unmoving, the levity of David's words and actions aware to all of them. As the counter above the bandstand clicked down to 25, they began to realize how serious the game was becoming. It was, in fact, no longer a game, but a struggle at life for all of them.

Oscar didn't want this to linger too long. He grabbed handfuls of pennies and threw them into the air, watching with satisfaction as the clinking of them against the dance floor pulled everyone's attention away from what had just happened. The couples scrambled to the floor, grabbing the precious coins and stuffing them into pockets and brassieres. It took almost a minute for the scrounging to end.

When the couples stood and split to the sides, the only person left still on the floor was Valerie – the same woman who had turned up her nose at the very idea of grabbing for pennies – lying prostrate on the floor, her hair and clothing all askew, and a miniature pile of pennies safely encased within her arms. She looked up, her eyes full of shame and embarrassment. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she stood, brushed herself off, and returned to where Spot stood.

Oscar smiled from his place. Their spirits were broken. They were desperate. And he was in complete control.

* * *

**AN:** Been a while, I know! I'm trying to churn out chapters, but this story is being stubborn!


	8. Leave the Marathon?

Mush lay back on the bench, trying to work his body into a position comfortable for sleeping. His body was soaked with sweat and the heat only seemed to be rising. He'd already rolled up his sleeves and pants. Anything more would be too scandalous in public.

"Darling, how on earth do you intend to sleep in this temperature?" Mush looked up to see Medda strolling toward him with what appeared to be a cup of water in her hands. "By my count, it's about ninety-nine degrees out.

"Very good," he said with a weary smile. "I see you're listening very closely to those crickets."

"Nah," she admitted. "I glanced at the thermometer on my way out." She sat down beside him and handed the cup to him. "Figured you may be on the dehydrated side."

He took the cup gratefully and gulped down a copious amount of lukewarm water. It tasted wonderful. "Thank you."

"You're gonna sleep out here?"

"Just for the time being. Once the wedding is done, Precious and me are out of here."

Medda wasn't so sure about that, but she wasn't about to say that to him. She was sure that her skepticism read all over her face anyway. "That little wife of yours isn't doing half bad. Lasting to the top 21 couples is impressive for an amateur."

"That's Precious," Mush said, smiling sadly. "When she puts her mind to something, she does it."

"No matter who she has to step over." The moment the words left Medda's mouth. She winced. She hadn't meant to verbalize that thought to Mush, even though she meant it. He was a sweet guy; if he wanted to believe his young bride was as sweet as apple pie, who was she to disillusion him?

To her surprise, Mush didn't get angry. Instead, he slowly nodded. "She does tend to become overly enthusiastic," he said sheepishly. "But at her heart, she'd a good person. She only does it because she wants what's best for us."

"Of course," Medda said unconvincingly. "We all want what's best."

There was a terse silence as Mush sipped at his water and Medda sat back, wishing she had a smoke on her. A gust of wind blew by, offering them both a small escape from the blistering heat. The salty smell of the Atlantic Ocean filled their nostrils.

Finally, Mush broke the silence, softly saying, "She isn't going to leave, is she?"

It broke Medda's heart to see the once optimistic man so crestfallen. She was cynical, but she'd hoped he would never succumb to that. She wasn't about to lie to a direct question though. "It doesn't look good, doll."

He nodded. "I kind of thought as much. I figured I'd stay, give her a chance to…to do the right thing. Guess our love didn't mean as much to her as it does to me."

"It isn't you. These marathons do things to people. Everyone wants to believe that winning one will give them a better life. Then they win, but they think they should do another one, just to get a little more money. It becomes a drug, so addictive that even the most strong-willed people can't escape it. The good people learn to make it a living; the smart people get out while they can."

Mush finished the water and tossed the cup into a nearby trash bin. He wiped a bit of perspiration from his forehead. "I didn't even want to come," he confided. "I was never one for dancing much. But Precious insisted and I figured that with a bed and food provided, it couldn't hurt to try. We came with nothing, so we had nothing to lose. At least, that's what I first thought. Now I've lost the most important person in my life." He stood and rolled his pants down.

Medda stood as well. "Where are you going, Mush?"

"Don't know," he admitted. "I guess I'll make my way back to Utah. I can do jobs along the way."

In a moment of pure spontaneity, Medda grabbed his hand and stopped him. "How would you like a travel companion?"

Mush couldn't tell whether or not the woman was kidding. "Thank you for the offer, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

She didn't release his hand. "It wouldn't be an inconvenience; it would be a blessing." She smiled as she thought about the two of them on the road together. "Trust me, kid, I can help you out. I've seen everything there is to see."

He shook his head. "You live for the marathon."

"I _hate_ the marathon," she spat. "I hate working myself to exhaustion, unsure what the day will bring."

"I don't have money."

"I have. We could get by on what I have."

"That' _your_ money. I couldn't use it."

"When you enter a partnership, everything is shared." When he didn't say anything, Medda softened her tone, letting her vulnerability show for the first time in many years. "Please, Mush, I need this escape."

"You?" he asked in amusement. "No, you're strong."

"Even strong women crumble."

"Once you got out there, you would feel out of place. You'd miss the thrill of the marathon circuit."

"I adapt easily," she said with a smile.

"It's a different world," he said emphatically. "It's not the kind of world that a woman like you belongs in."

"Oh…I see," she said, her eyes lowering. "You'd be ashamed of me."

His eyes widened. "No!" he shouted. He gently took her hands in his, looking at her a sweet innocence which melted her heart. "No, Medda! I think _you'd_ be ashamed of _me_."

"You?" she joked sadly. "Who could be ashamed of a sweet-faced gentleman like you?"

Another gust of wind blew by and Mush slowly released Medda's hands from his grasp. She sat back down on the bench, tired in so many ways. "Good-bye, Medda," he whispered.

"Bye, kid," she said. "I hope that life is everything you'd hoped it would be."

The young man leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. Then he left.

Medda was glad that there were no stars out that night. Beneath the cover of darkness, no one could see the tears which streamed down her cheeks.

* * *

Daisy stood on the roof, looking up into the night's black abyss. It was a starless night, so there was nothing for her to wish upon. It was a silly superstition, but one she held close to her heart. After all, if she couldn't have hope—even in the most childish of ways—then she didn't think she could pull herself from her bed after every fifteen minute break. Lately, all of her wishes had been of one thing: Home. She dreamed of returning to the humble, but beautiful, abode which she and Oscar had once called home. She didn't know how much money they had saved up, but it had to be enough to at least get by. Maybe she could get a part-time job to pick up the slack.

She sighed. Oscar would never go for it, and he was the one making decisions, not her.

As though he knew she was thinking about him, Oscar appeared on the roof. With a sly smile, he approached her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Ready for Wednesday?" he asked.

"I still don't like it."

"Baby," he groaned, burying his face into her hair, "I told you! It's for the best! We need the money."

"What am I going to tell Jack after the marathon ends?"

"Why do you have to tell him anything?"

"We'll be married," she reminded. "He'll expect me to go with him."

"It won't be a _real _wedding."

"He'll think it is."

Oscar sighed in exasperation. "Fine," he said, turning her around to face him. "Then break it off with him after the wedding."

"What reason would I give?"

"I don't care! Accuse him of beating you for all I care! Get rid of him and then I'll pair you with one of the pros. That Conlon guy should do nicely."

"He's already paired with Valerie."

"So I'll get rid of her," he said nonchalantly, as though he'd just said he would throw out an old shirt.

"Get rid of her?" Daisy sputtered. "But…but she's worked so hard!"

"And she'll work just as hard at the next marathon."

"You can't do that!"

Oscar turned a malicious eye to his wife. He had never struck her before, but she hadn't a doubt that he was above the idea. "I can do whatever I want," he said curtly. "This is _my_ marathon! These people belong to _me_!"

Daisy looked fearfully into his eyes, dumbfounded at the man her husband had become. "Is that the way you look at us? Like we're your dolls?"

"Look, there is a lot of money at stake," he reminded, pointedly avoiding her question. "Remember, we're in this together. What I'm doing is for you."

She lowered her eyes. "I know."

"Who needs you most?" he asked. When she didn't reply, he curled a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head upward. "Who needs you most?"

She sighed. "You do."

"That's right. Now I need to talk to the guy they sent over from Fralinger's. You just remember what's at stake."

He exited, leaving her to return to the empty sky. She leaned out, looking down at the nearly empty Steel Pier. It always looked eerie at night…like something out of a nightmare. In a way, it _was_ a nightmare.

"Hello!" a voice chirped. "Oscar?"

This time, it was Precious who interrupted her moment. The young woman was dressed in nothing but a pink bathrobe. In her hands she held her dress for the upcoming wedding. As all of the dresses were, hers was made out of cellophane. Since she was a featured singer, though, it had also been embellished with fake roses.

"Oh, Daisy!" she said. "I was looking for Mr. Delancy."

Daisy looked warily at the young girl. "He isn't here. I think I saw him speaking with the man from Fralinger's.

Precious pouted. "Hmph! He was supposed to meet with me to discuss my number for the wedding!" With a slight twinkle in her eye, she added, "He said he would give me some private lessons."

"I don't know if he should meet with the contestants privately," Daisy commented, ignoring her own hypocrisy. "I mean, it might show favoritism, and that wouldn't bode well for him or the marathon."

"He's dreamy, though, isn't he?" Precious asked in a tone of a star struck adolescent.

"He's attractive," Daisya greed, trying to keep the tinge of jealousy out of her tone. "But you've got Mush."

At the name of her supposedly-beloved husband, Precious merely rolled her eyes. "Mush…he just doesn't understand me! I can't be tied down to a boring home."

"Yes, well I don't think Mr. Delancy is the marrying type."

"I don't know," Precious said with a knowing smirk. "I think he might have a change of heart any moment now."

It took everything Daisy had not to smack the smug smile off the girl's face.

"Well, I guess I should go," Precious said. "I want to make the best of my break."

Alone, once again, Daisy turned back to the night sky. Now, though, her mind was running crazy with thoughts of Oscar—the one man she'd come to depend on—and Precious. She had been doing all of this for him, and now he was cozying up to a young, perky wannabe singer?

She was angry. She wanted to leave. She wanted to say kiss off to Oscar, telling him that she was going home and that he was welcome to come, but she wasn't going to stand around and wait for him. She wanted to do all of these things.

In the end, she returned to her resting quarters and waited for the next round of exhaustive dancing to begin.


	9. The Wedding

"I can hear you coming, Medda," Daisy proclaimed glumly as she sat atop her bed. The redhead woman appeared in the doorway seconds later, dressed in her bridesmaid gown. The long dress was made completely out of cellophane, a nod to their sponsors.

"I'm a one-woman marching band," she said disdainfully, plucking at the stiff and uncomfortable fabric of her dress. "This thing is chafing me."

Daisy's dress was also made of cellophane, but this one came with a matching veil. It was bobby pinned to her hair and looked more like a nun's habit than like a bride's veil. Beside her on the bed was a shoddy bouquet made of taffy that had been pulled and twisted to look like roses.

Medda could tell there was something wrong with the younger woman, so she tried to lighten the mood. "Well, you've got something cellophane, something sweet, and something tacky as hell; now all you need is something blue and you'll be set." Her lame joke elicited a small smile from Daisy, but the woman was still saddened by something. "So spill, doll; what's bugging you?"

"What could be bugging me?" she asked facetiously. "Who doesn't want to get married to a man she's known for only three weeks in front of a thousand strangers while wearing a wedding dress that crinkles when she sits? Isn't that every girl's dream?"

The older woman felt for her; it was obvious the wedding was nothing but a publicity stunt and she suspected that Oscar Delancy was pulling the strings from behind. "Oh, doll, don't worry about it. We've only got twenty couples left and at least eight of them are on the verge of dropping." She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "And besides, you could do a lot worse as far as husbands go."

Daisy blushed at the comment, her mind going back and forth between her real husband and her soon-to-be fake husband. Was it wrong that she thought Jack would make a better husband than Oscar? What truly depressed her was the thought that Jack would soon leave—Oscar would see to that—and she would lose the only bit of happiness that she'd had in years. Somehow, Jack made it all—the lying, the cheating, the sore muscles, the weariness—disappear, leaving her in a utopian state of mind.

A squeal shattered through the air and Precious burst into the room. Her dress was cellophane as well, but it was by far the most stylish of them all. It was pink and almost scandalously short. The neckline dipped low and was adorned with white taffy flowers. A matching taffy flower was pink into her pink curls.

"Oh, Daisy!" she gushed as she fell on the bed beside the bride-to-be. "Oh, you're such a beautiful bride! Are you nervous?"

"No."

Precious clicked her tongue, shaking her head in surprise. "I don't understand how you couldn't be! I remember before Mush and me got married I was so nervous I thought I was going to faint!"

Medda's eyes narrowed in on the young, spunky girl as though willing her to implode. Her mouth was taut as she bit back a nasty response. In a level tone she asked, "Have you spoken to Mush recently?"

"Oh, no," Precious said. "The poor dear was just getting drenched in all of the rain, so I told him to go along without me and to write to me when he gets wherever he's going. Hopefully by that time I'll have won the marathon and he and I will have money to start up again."

"So you plan to go with him again?" Daisy asked with more than a little surprise. Her mind returned to her meeting with Precious the other night atop the roof.

The young woman pursed her lips in deep thought. "I haven't decided yet. But I didn't want to tell him that; the poor dear already has so much on his mind!"

"Yes, that poor dear," Medda agreed with a strained tone.

Precious stood and twirled around energetically, all thoughts of Mush gone from her mind. "Oh, I'm just so excited! Who ever thought I'd get to sing on the radio?"

"That's usually what happens when you're doing the head honcho," Medda muttered beneath her breath.

"Hmm?" Precious asked.

"Just said it's definitely a surprise."

"I know! I'm finally going to be a somebody!"

Medda rolled her eyes. "Being a somebody ain't all it's cracked up to be, hun." Daisy nodded in silent agreement; she knew all to well the prices of fame. "All it means is that everyone wants a piece of you. Besides, it's all so fickle; one day you're in and the next you're out."

The sprightly girl pouted. She'd been expecting praise and admiration, not a one-way ticket back down to earth. What good was it being a somebody if nobody was going to fall all over you? "I need to go warm up," she said, pout still in place. "I'll see you girls at the wedding!" She gave Daisy an unreciprocated hug and brushed briskly past Medda on her way out.

"Check her! One song on the radio and she thinks she's Jeanette MacDonald or something." Medda took a long drag on her cigarette and put it out on the door frame. "I almost got a joy out of shattering her dreams."

Daisy shrugged as she picked up her bouquet. She ran her fingers along the confectionary flora. "Better that she knows now rather than later. Think her newfound glory will last long?"

Medda considered the question. "Well, show business is a dog eat dog world and only the truly ruthless survive, so she should be fine. I hope that taffy gets stuck in her hair."

* * *

Fralingers had spared no expenses for the wedding. The ballroom was gloriously decorated, with flowers filling every nook and cranny. Crystal hearts hung from the chandelier by strings of pearls, giving it a gaudier look than what was likely wanted. A white carpet covered with flowers and confetti ran from the door at the back of the ballroom all the way to the bandstand, which would serve as a makeshift altar. Daisy would enter from there, following a long line of bridesmaids and groomsmen. The bridal precession would be led by Precious and her partner, serving as a sort of flower girl and ring bearer.

Oscar was running about, making last minute tweaks. He wasn't about to let anything go wrong for this; nothing _could_ go wrong. This was his last chance and nothing was going to get in his way. "Yeah, bring the pastor to the bandstand," he told Kloppman. "And make sure that blonde kid's all set. If it looks like her song's going to be a dud, I'll pull the plug on it."

"The girl from couple #18 is complaining of a rash. Says she may be allergic to cellophane."

He cursed. "Tell her she can sweat it out. This ain't gonna be a long wedding; we're gonna get 'em in, do the deed, then send them to their honeymoon tent. Oh, is the tent set up?"

"They're working on it right now," the older man assured. "Ain't you antsy about your wife going into that thing with another guy?"

Oscar snorted. "You don't know Daisy. She'll find a way to break-up with him before he's had time to unhook her garter."

"What if she doesn't?"

"Then they do the deed," Oscar said nonchalantly. "We get the Fralingers' sponsorship either way."

"Mr. Delancy! Mr. Delancy!" Precious was running toward the two of them, dressed in her costume and with her hair all done up.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, his eyes scanning over her body appraisingly. "What're you doing out here?"

"Mr. Delancy, I just wanted to thank you again for this! I can't wait! And when I become a big star, I promise to tell everyone that you gave me my first big start!"

The two men exchanged bemused glances. "Sure thing, kid," he replied, chucking her chin. "I wouldn't have given it to ya if I didn't think you could handle it." She giggled, ducking her head down shyly. "If this works out, I may just take you under my wing and become your personal manager."

Her eyes were all stars. "Really?"

"Of course, kid. Now go back with the others. Don't want people to see you before you come out; it'll ruin the surprise!"

As she ran off, Kloppman commented, "The young girl seems to have taken a shine to you."

"I'm quite fond of her myself." Lascivious thoughts entered his mind and he found himself smiling slyly.

"One minute until we start, Mr. Delancy!" shouted one of the production assistants.

He turned and nodded to Kloppman. "Make sure everyone's in place." The older man nodded and turned to go, but Oscar grabbed his arm, adding, "And remember: it has to be perfect."

* * *

The dancers were crowded outside the ballroom, all in varying states of discomfort. When they'd been told that they'd be given a five hour rest in celebration of the wedding, they had all rejoiced. Now, though, they found they'd rather be dancing exhaustively than standing there wrapped in cellophane.

Daisy was at the back of the procession, toying with her bouquet. Despite what she'd told Precious earlier she _was_ nervous, far more nervous than she had been before her first wedding. In the line before her, she caught Medda's eyes. The redhead woman gave her a supportive wink just as the wedding march began.

Walking before all the spectators, dressed in cellophane no less, was a humiliating journey. The dancers hung their heads shamefully, save for Precious who was smiling and soaking up the attention. There were "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd, partnered with quite a few laughs and giggles. No doubt they looked ridiculous.

The walk was a bit different for Daisy. Her mind did not register the noise from the crowd, nor did it register the looks of amusement and pity she received as she passed by. Her focus was on the end of the march where Oscar, her husband, was standing beside Jack, her soon-to-be husband. A woman passed from one husband to the other like a piece of furniture.

"And now," Oscar announced when Daisy reached the end of her bridal trek, "our very own Precious Meyers will sing a song to celebrate the special day!"

The petite blind stepped forward and the band started up. "This is a song I wrote myself!" she informed them. Though she needn't have bothered; as soon as she began singing it was obvious that the song had been written by an amateur. The words "love" and "marriage" and "heart" were dropped like bombs, blasting the audience over and over until they were nauseous from the sickeningly sweet lyrics. But what talent she lacked in songwriting, she made up for in singing. Even Medda was impressed by the young girl's singing chops. Her voice seemed to reach astronomical heights.

Despite the girl's talent, her song was beginning to cut into his time. Oscar needed get her off and get on with the wedding. Just as she'd hit the end of a verse, he gently took her arm and began to lead her away. But she wasn't going without a fight.

"I'm not done yet!" she hissed as she ran back to the microphone and continued the song without missing a beat.

"Precious!" he said in a hushed tone. It was drowned out as she hit a high C at fortissimo. He groaned and hoped it would end soon.

But it didn't; in fact, it seemed to go on far longer than it had in rehearsals. "Precious," he said once again as he took her arm. She yanked it away. It was time to take matters into his own hands. He wrapped his arms around her waist and physically picked her up off the ground.

"Let me go!" she screeched.

"Your done, doll face," he whispered. "Great song; you've got something going! But now you need to go off." He nodded to the pastor to continue.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the pastor began as the volume of Precious' screams disappeared into the distance, "we are gathered to bring together Miss Daisy Bloom and Mr. Jack Kelly in sacred matrimony."

Sacred? How sacred was it to be married in the middle of a dance marathon to a man you've only known three weeks while your real husband stands idly by. Not that it mattered; the pastor was obviously a hired actor.

"Jack Kelly, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" he asked. He'd been given direct orders to go with the abridged version of the wedding ceremony, by-passing the whole "for better or for worse" bit. It not only sped up the marriage, but it made it null and void for all intent purposes.

Jack looked at Daisy, flashing her a smile. "I do."

"And do you, Daisy Bloom, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

She looked back and forth between the pastor and her betrothed. A shaky smile was offered up as she said, "…I do."

A thunderous round of applause echoed around her, though it did nothing to lift her spirits. She knew the pastor was speaking, but she heard no words. All she felt were Jack's arms around her and his lips upon hers as they shared their first kiss as "husband and wife." It was magnificent.

Oscar re-entered looking as though he'd just lost a fight with an alley cat. He nodded to the band and they started up. "A big congratulations to the happy couple," he announced. He took them each by an arm and pulled them apart before leading them to the tent that had been set up for them in the middle of the dance floor. "And now, our lucky newlyweds will be given the chance to spend their fifteen minute break together here on their quick honeymoon." He gave a knowing wink to the audience who tittered in response. They knew exactly what would happen at the end of those fifteen minutes.

Jack took his new bride's hand and led her through the flap of their honeymoon tent. It was tiny with nothing more than a cot set up for them. The cot was supposed to be for only one person, so it would be a tight fit; not that Daisy planned to let it get that far.

"What are they all laughing about?" he asked as he seated her on the cot.

"A freak show further down on the pier," she said. "They marry off their midgets and send them into a honeymoon tent. After fifteen minutes, the tent is pulled away to show them…" She blushed before saying more. "Well, I suppose you can guess what it shows."

He took a seat beside her. "So we're freaks?"

"For all intent purposes, we are right now."

"And in fifteen minutes they'll pull this away?"

She nodded. "Fourteen minutes by now, I suppose."

"Ah. Well, then, what would you like to do for those fourteen minutes?"

Daisy looked at him in surprise and relief. Whether he had recognized her reticence to consummating their new marriage or whether he had simply figured it futile to attempt intimacy under these circumstances, she was grateful. "Perhaps we could talk," she said.

"That sounds good. So how did you end up here?"

"In Atlantic City?"

"In Atlantic City…in these marathons…just the general 'here.'"

"Same way everyone else did. I needed money."

Jack studied her for a moment before shaking his head. "No, there's more to it, I can tell. You don't want to be here, but you are."

"Who wants to be here?" she asked cynically. "Don't we all want to be home?"

"So why aren't you?"

"I told you, I need the money."

"There are easier and less degrading ways to get money. You may not be the star you once were, but I'm sure you could find work somewhere."

"Can we not talk about this?" she asked pleadingly. "I have my reasons for being here, same as you."

His lips twitched into a smile. "I don't think my reason for being here is the same as yours. But we can talk about something else; what did you want to talk about?"

"Anything," she said softly. "Anything that has nothing to do with dance marathons or Steel Pier or the depression we're in." She shot up and paced the small length of the tent. "I want to pretend I'm not here…I want to pretend that I'm miles away."

"So do it." His hand took hers gently and pulled her back down onto the cot. "You can be miles away."

She was dubious. "How?"

"Close your eyes." When they were closed, he situated his body behind hers, his legs on either side of hers and her sitting back against him. He placed his hands on her hips and situated his mouth by her ear. "Now think of where you want to be."

"Not here."

"If not here then where?"

A pause. "Home."

"12 Ocean Drive?" he asked.

"That's it. Situated right near the shore."

"Tell me about it."

"Beautiful. A garden out front with lilies and germaniums. A vegetable garden situated outside the window where I grew tomatoes and carrots and peas."

"What else?"

"White, lace curtains hanging in the windows. They're beginning to tear, but I don't mind. A small, blue loveseat and a coffee table. Blue carpet that's begun to wear. A small kitchen with few in the way of cookware."

"Not much of a cook I take it?"

"No…No, I'm not."

"What's it smell like?"

She opened her eyes. "What?"

"Your house on the shore. How does it smell?"

"Salty."

"Like taffy?" he quipped.

"No," she said with a face, "not like taffy. I hope I never eat taffy again."

"Your home sounds beautiful."

"It is."

"You miss it?"

"Every day."

He wrapped his arms around her more tightly. "You'll get back there."

"I hope so," she whispered. "I just want to get away from here."

"So go."

She turned and looked at him. "I told you, I can't! I need the money."

"That's not what's keeping you here. You're staying because you're afraid."

Daisy shot up and turned her back to him. "That's ridiculous," she said unconvincingly. "What could I possibly be afraid of?"

"You're afraid that you won't be strong enough to do it, to actually take that step out."

"Oh? What, do you think you're some kind of mind reader?" she asked with more than a little anger. "Why are _you_ still here? You don't care about the competition or about the money."

"No," he replied in a quiet tone, "I don't."

"Do why are you here? Are you as scared as you claim I am?"

He shook his head. "I never came here for the money or the marathon. I came here for three weeks of bliss. And now it's over."

She leveled him with a confused look. "W-what do you mean it's over?"

"I have to go now."

Daisy's body trembled in anger as she digested the news. "Is that so?" The ire was rising, her face was turning red. "I see! So you're just here for a quick fling, is that it?"

"No, I—"

"Don't explain," she ordered, holding up a hand to silence him. "I get it! I was just part of the fun; the bliss, as you put it. Now out with the old and on to the new."

"Daisy, it's not like that."

"I'm just glad we got this all settled before we went home! Let me tell you, Mr. Kelly, this has been the best honeymoon I've ever had!"

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but the tent was pulled away, revealing them to a throng of gaping spectators. A murmur of disappointment echoed through the crowd; they'd hoped to see the newlyweds in a state of coital bliss. What happened next, though, made up for the lack of sex.

"We're through!" Daisy shouted with a sob. A hand came up to her quivering mouth and she ran off the dance floor crying. Jack stood there looking guilty. He gave the crowd one last glance before slowly walking off after Daisy.

The scene couldn't have been more perfect in Oscar's eyes. "Guess our happy couple isn't so happy anymore," he announced gleefully. "Ah well! You win some, you lose some! And hey, don't go away, folks! We're down to our final twenty couples and they'll be returning to the floor shortly!"

He exited to the backrooms with a smile on his face. Things were going according to plan. Daisy had given a heart breaking performance; it had almost brought a tear to his eye! Now he just had a bit of dead weight to get rid of and they would be on their way.

* * *

**AN:** I know it's been a long delay between chapters, but I'm trying to get this finished as quickly as I can! Thank you to my readers and reviewers! I only hope my story lives up to expectations!


	10. Dog Eat Dog World

"Are you out of your mind?" Spot growled. "How can you just walk away from this?"

Valerie was barely even listening as she continued to pack. "I'm sorry, but this is a chance I can't pass up!"

"It's a set up! They're trying to get you out of the marathon!"

She folded her dress and placed it daintily on top. "Don't be silly. Why would they do that?"

"Because they know that you and me can win this thing, that's why!" he bellowed. "You're still new to all of this, but I've been around! I know the way these things work! They've already decided who they want to win, so they have to make sure the strong dancers flop."

She scowled at him. "You're just jealous that I got this chance."

"Jealous!" he echoed incredulously. "You couldn't be more wrong, sweetheart! I'm just smart enough not to fall for some stupid letter. You're going to get to New York and find nothing!"

Valerie leveled him with a glare. "Leave me alone, you ape!"

In a fit of anger, Spot grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her away from her suitcase. "Listen to me, doll! I'm trying to look out for you here!"

"Let me go!"

"Hey!" The shout reverberated within the room and startled Spot so much that he released his partner's arm. His face was red with embarrassment. What kind of man roughs up a woman like that?

Medda, the source of the voice, stepped into the sleeping quarters, hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. A nervous Daisy stepped in right behind her. "Men are not allowed in the women's quarters," she informed him, "so I suggest you leave."

Spot wasn't happy having some dame tell him what to do, but he'd known Medda long enough to know not to argue with her. Still, he wasn't going to leave without having the last word. "Fine!" he snapped. "Go ahead and leave! Then, when me and my new partner are being awarded the money, I'll think about you and hope that you're happy with your choice." With that, he stormed out, leaving Valerie to continue packing and Medda and Daisy in shock.

"You're leaving?" Medda asked. "But why? You and Spot have been doing so well! If I weren't full of self-confidence, I might actually consider the two of you a threat."

"Oh, the marathon was quaint," Valerie said as she placed the last item in her suitcase, "but I'm on to bigger and better things."

"You find yourself a sugar daddy?"

"Don't be silly, Medda. I've been offered a job in New York." She fished a letter out of her bag and handed it over. "Mr. Kloppman said this came for me. One of the spectators saw me and wants me to model his clothing. Imagine," she said, her eyes wide and starry, "me, a New York fashion model!"

Medda and Daisy huddled together to read the letter. Daisy immediately recognized the handwriting as Oscar's. It made her stomach churn with guilt. She wanted to tell Valerie that it was a scam and that if she walked away from this, she'd have nothing, but if she did that, she would have to admit to the scheme Oscar had set and would have to admit that her engagement to Jack had been fake. She couldn't bear to reopen that wound.

Luckily, Medda hadn't any reason to have so much tact. "Looks suspicious to me," she proclaimed as she handed it back.

"What's so suspicious about it?" Valerie asked with a frown.

"This sort of thing just doesn't happen, except in the pictures. Have you met this guy?"

"Well, not exactly," she admitted sheepishly. "But Mr. Delancey assured me that _he_ met the man and that it's a done deal. I'm booked on a train to New York and he'll be there to pick me up."

Medda frowned uncertainly. Anyone with half a brain could tell that there'd be no one there waiting for her when she arrived; deep down Valerie probably knew it too, but she was so blinded by her ambition and by her desire to get as far away from the marathon life as she could. She'd convinced herself that this actually could be true. After all, it was much nicer to convince yourself that all your dreams were about to come true than face the reality that your life was in the dumps.

Still, this created a problem for Medda. Did she go along with it, pretending like the letter was authentic or did she burst the girl's bubble? "I hope it works out for you," she finally said in an even tone. And she meant it.

Valerie responded with a sad smile. "Yeah, me too."

She zipped up her suitcase and lifted it from her bed. "I wish you girls the best of luck. Maybe if you're in New York one day we can meet for lunch. I might even be able to help you make a few connections." Her false bravado was as transparent as their cellophane wedding dresses had been, but Medda and Daisy let her go on with it. They hadn't the heart not to. Though, there was one thing Medda could do that would help her sleep a little better at night.

"Here, sweetie," she said as she pulled a small amount of money from her stockings. "Take this."

"Oh, Medda, I can't accept that! You'll need it more than I will."

But the other woman didn't budge. "Take it," she repeated insistently. "Get something to eat."

The thought of food was very appetizing and after a couple of beats she took the money gratefully. "Thank you," she said in a hushed tone. She looked poised to leave, but hesitated, as though walking through that door meant she couldn't return and would be left to her fate. But she straightened up, head held high, and walked out, suitcase in hand.

Daisy sat on her own bed, watching, marveled by how easily someone could just walk away. "Do you think you could ever do that?"

"Model? I think I'm too old for that, hun."

"No, I mean walk out on the chance at $2,000. Just thinking about leaving scares me, but she just walked away from it, just like that."

"Well, it's much easier to leave when you think you've got a job as a fashion model."

Daisy shook her head. "She knows there's nothing for her there, deep down she does. But she still did it."

"She was a newcomer. We've been on the circuit so long it just feels unnatural for us _not_ to be here." Medda lit the end of a cigarette and took a long drag on it. "Still," she continued as she let out a long stream of smoke, "I wouldn't mind moving on from this and actually having a life. Sure, you don't get free food and a warm bed, but you've got your dignity, right?"

Before Daisy could respond, a petite blonde bundle bounced into the room. "Hi, girls!" Precious chirped. She didn't notice Medda's foul expression at her arrival. "Did you hear about Valerie? She's going to be a model in New York!"

"Mm-hm," Medda hummed.

Precious fell onto the bed beside her, clapping her hands together. "Oh, some girls have all the luck! What I wouldn't give to walk the New York runway in designer gowns!"

"I thought you had your sights on being a singer," Medda commented in a biting tone.

"Well, of course! But I don't want to limit myself. I'm a girl of many talents."

"So I've seen."

"And besides, Oscar said I'd be a natural on the runway. He may even be able to get me a movie contract!"

Daisy was visibly startled at Precious' casual reference to Oscar, something that Medda also picked up on. "Oscar?" the latter woman asked. "The two of you are on a first name basis?"

Precious had the good grace to at least act sheepish. "He's been a great help to me," she said vaguely, though in a tone of voice that indicated she had repaid him in ways that proper women didn't talk about.

"I need to get some air before the next round," Daisy mumbled as she shot up and briskly walked out.

"Well, Medda," Precious said, slinging an arm around Medda's shoulder in an amicable matter, "it looks like it's just you and me now."

"You forget that Daisy is still here," Medda replied as she roughly shrugged the girl's arm off.

"Oh, yeah," she conceded. "Well, that's only if she can find another partner and, between you and me, I don't think any of those guys want to dance with her. She's obviously too old for this line of work. She'd just be deadweight."

Medda narrowed her eyes but held her tongue. She'd show this snot-nosed little brat; she'd wipe the dance floor with her pretty blonde curls. "I think I should get back to the dance floor," she said curtly. "And you never know; maybe you'll get an offer to model and be out of here soon."

"You really think so?"

"Sweetheart, I'm _praying_ it happens."

* * *

Daisy reentered the ballroom, her face still red. She hoped her eyes didn't look too red from crying, but she didn't have time to check herself in a mirror.

Oscar grabbed her arm the moment she walked in. "Where have you been?" he hissed. "You don't have much time before you're disqualified. Now go grab Conlon before another girl does."

She pulled her arm from his grasp. "I saw your letter," she snarled in an accusatory tone. "You are unbelievable."

"Hey, I needed to get her out somehow."

"She'll show up in New York with nothing; nowhere to go, no money, nothing!"

"And she'll learn a very valuable lesson about not believing everything people tell her."

Daisy glared at him. She wished her eyes were daggers that could slice right through her husband's smug grin. "What happened to the man I married?"

His grin faltered. "Forgive me for wanting to survive in this hellhole world!"

"You don't need to lie, cheat, and steal to survive!"

Oscar shook his head at his wife's naiveté. "It's a dog eat dog world out there, doll! Sometimes you've got to step over other people. You've got to do what you've got to do!"

"And me?" she asked in a strained tone. "Will I be counted among those you step on to survive?"

"Of course not!" he assured her with a laugh. "Stop being so silly."

But she wasn't finished. "So all of this extra time you've been spending with Precious…"

"I'm giving the girl a break."

"Like the one you gave me?"

Oscar could fake charm and finesse better than anyone, but even he had his limit, especially when it came to his wife. He grabbed her arm again, this time even tighter. "Listen and listen good! I made you the star that you became. Don't blame me for your failure! Now I am trying to make a better life for us and that means doing some things I'm not too proud of, but at least I'm doing something. Either get with it or get out!" With that, he stormed off.

Daisy fell into a nearby seat and leaned forward. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from flowing. No, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She would show him, show that she was stronger than that.

After collecting herself and taking a few deep breaths, she walked out onto the dance floor. Oscar—going at his emcee position with full force—caught sight of her. "And here comes Miss Daisy Bloom!" he announced. "Just recently abandoned by her husband, our lovely star isn't about to give up on this marathon. She's going to dance with her new partner—Spot Conlon!"

Spot looked up, surprised by the turn of events, but he didn't argue. He was in no position to turn down a partner, especially one as seasoned as Daisy was. He stepped toward her and offered his hand. She remained motionless.

Oscar caught her eye and flicked his head toward Spot, indicating for Daisy to accept his extended hand. "Let's start the dancing, huh, kids?"

She looked up at him with a steely glare. How long had she remained under his thumb, obeying every order he barked at her? How long had she put aside her own wants for his, no matter how many times he promised it would be the last time? She was beginning to understand what it felt like to be a doormat.

"It looks like Miss Bloom is still stunned by her tragic wedding," Oscar announced without missing a beat. He left the bandstand and joined her on the dance floor. In a whisper, he ordered her, "Dance, Daisy." But she did nothing. He shoved her toward Spot, who caught her. "There we go!" he announced. "Looks like these two are back in the marathon!"

But they weren't. Daisy didn't pull back from her new partner's grasp, but she didn't move. Spot tried as hard as he could to dance with her, but Daisy's feet remained firmly planted on the ground. What was the point? If she allowed herself to play the part of a trained dancing monkey, then it would never stop. Oscar would continue to make promises he had no intention of keeping and she would stay in this endless cycle until the day she died.

"Daisy," Oscar said in a firm tone, "Daisy, dance! I said dance!" His orders were growing louder and louder. Soon, the other dancers were turning to see the commotion. "Are you just going to stand there like that? Because I'll have to disqualify you if you don't start dancing! Or is that what you want?" She said nothing, further infuriating him. "Okay…okay, I see the game you're playing! You think I'm afraid to throw you out? Because I'm not, Daisy! Now dance! I mean it!"

Spot looked back and forth between Daisy and Oscar nervously. He could see there was more to this than what met the eye.

She looked up into his eyes, leveling him with a cool gaze. "You've got to do what you've got to do," she said without missing a beat. She wasn't afraid of him anymore. She wasn't about to be bullied around anymore.

"Okay, that's it!" Oscar snarled as he grabbed her. "You're out! You hear me? You're out! Out! Get off the dance floor!"

The music had stopped as had the dancing. Oscar's bellowed words echoed within the ballroom before dissipating into an eerie silence. All eyes—eyes of the spectators, the dancers, and the musicians—were on him and him alone. His face was red, his body shaking. Everyone was frightened by this new side of him. He was supposed to be their suave and charming host, not a raving mad man.

Without a word, Daisy extracted her arm from his grasp and exited the dance floor. Oscar was left huffing and puffing beneath the stare of hundreds of eyes.

"Everybody dance!" he ordered before stormed off behind her.

* * *

**AN:** There's only one chapter left! Thank you to those of you who have read and reviewed! I truly appreciate it!


	11. Endings and Beginnings

Daisy slammed through the office door, followed closely by an irate Oscar. "Want to tell me what the hell that was all about?" he snarled, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

She pulled away and matched his angry glare with one of her own. "I'm through with this, Oscar. I can't go on."

"Can't go on?" he echoed ruefully. "This isn't some lark, doll! This is how we're making a living. You want to stand out on the street corner selling apples, sleeping in crowded lodging houses and standing on the breadline for hours?"

"I have enough saved to get by for now. I'll find a job. I'm not useless, you know."

"You're nothing without me. You've never been able to do anything for yourself. You need me."

"No," she said, shaking her head emphatically, "I don't. I've let you convince me that I do, but I don't."

He folded his arms, jaw tight. "So you're just going to walk out on me? Just like that?"

"You can come with me," she told him softly. "I don't want to leave you, Oscar. I do love you…I hope you love me too."

Oscar didn't respond. His silence spoke volumes.

"I am going down to the quarters to pack my things. Then I'm out of here."

"And where are you going to go, huh? You've got no place to sleep except on the streets."

"I'll hop on a train and go home," she said as she glanced out the large window overlooking the dance floor. The few remaining couples were dancing wearily, supporting each other and praying their competition would drop soon. "All I want is to go home, Oscar. I'll sell everything I own if I need to."

He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Daisy…Daisy you can't go home."

"You aren't going to stop me, Oscar. Not this time. I'm through with the marathon circuit."

"No, listen to me," he said. He grabbed her and turned her around to face him. "You can't go home because we don't have one anymore. I sold it."

Her brow furrowed as she digested this information. "What?"

"A couple of years back when we were working that marathon in Philly. I got an offer and I had to take it."

"Y-you sold _our_ house without asking me?"

"We needed the money, babe! Besides, we weren't going back anytime soon."

In a fit of anger, Daisy flew at him, banging her fisted hands against his chest. "You bastard! You didn't even have the decency to tell me! All this time, you've been acting as though it was still there, like I could go back any time!" He grabbed a hold of her wrists to stop the feeble blows, but it didn't stop her words. "You just wanted to control me! That's what it always is with you! Control and power!"

Oscar threw her to the side the way one might throw an old shirt in the laundry hamper. "Like I said, sweets, it's a dog eat dog world. I did what I had to do."

"No matter who got hurt." By now tears had sprung up in her eyes as she trembled with rage.

He shook his head, regarding her with a sneer. "I should have left you behind at that air show. That's when I knew you were really a washed-up has-been. That should have been our ticket back into the big times." He angrily slammed his hand into the flat surface of his desk. "It would have worked if that damned hot dog pilot hadn't gotten himself killed."

Daisy's head snapped up. "What are you talking about?"

"The pilot at that air show. The one who crashed his plane."

Every hair on her head stood straight up and Daisy found herself at a loss for words. The pilot…he'd died…but… "He died?"

"Of course he did! Don't you read the damn papers? A crash like that, the guy didn't stand a chance. He dies and steals all of our hard-earned publicity."

Her eyes narrowed in anger and sorrow. "How terrible for you," she snapped dryly without a trace of true remorse in her tone. "How inconsiderate of him to get killed right at that moment."

"Oh, for God…what the hell do you want from me? I'm trying to make a living here!" His eyes softened and he gently took her hand in his. "Please, baby. Don't walk out on me now. We've got one more marathon to do and then we'll be gone, I swear. We'll buy another house, a better house."

When she didn't respond, Oscar placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head so that she was looking him directly in the eyes. "Who needs you more, baby?"

Slowly, Daisy extracted herself from his hold—both literally and figuratively speaking—and stepped back. "I have to go." And with that, she stumbled out of the office.

She didn't head down to the sleeping quarters, though; instead, Daisy headed for the stairs, running up at a quick pace, and holding tightly to the rail. In her mind, she thought of all of the people who had come here with hopes high. She thought of the people whose lives had been ruined, of David and Sarah, of Mush and Precious, of Valerie. Spirits (and marriages) broken. And for what? For money? For greed?

She kept going up until there were no more steps to climb. Then she burst through the door and onto the roof top. It was night time and it was cold. She shivered.

There was a footstep behind her. She knew who it was. "You're dead." Daisy turned around to face him.

Jack smiled. "Maybe."

"You are," she repeated emphatically. "Who are you?"

He shrugged. "Just someone looking for a second chance."

They stood there in the cool night, facing each other. Jack didn't look like a ghost; he looked as solid and full as Daisy herself. She wanted to touch him.

"Please don't leave me again."

He shook his head. "I only had three weeks. For what it's worth, they were better than any three weeks I had while I was alive."

She lifted a hand to brush away tears she hadn't even realized were falling. "So then why did you come back?"

His eyes crinkled as his grin grew. With an extended hand, he said, "Because you still owe me a dance."

Daisy placed her own trembling hand in his and he pulled her toward him. His free hand wrapped around her waist and her free hand went up to his shoulder. They stood there, bodies pressed together, swaying back and forth in time to a tune only they could hear. Her head was resting against his chest and she noted that there wasn't a heartbeat echoing in her ear.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," she whispered. "I've been talking about leaving the marathon, but now I don't know what else to do."

"There's plenty else for you to do."

She sniffled. "Yeah, right."

"Daisy, I was only given three weeks, but you've got an entire lifetime ahead of you. Don't waste it. Take it from me; live your life the way you want to."

He stepped back slowly and her hand lingered in his as long as it could. When it fell from his grasp, he was gone. She was alone.

As she walked down the stairs, she noted that Oscar had returned to ballroom and to his bandstand and he was going at it with has much vim and vigor as he had before. Obviously he wasn't too broken up by Daisy claiming she was leaving. He probably didn't believe she would actually do it. She wasn't even so certain she could.

The marathon had continued. Couples danced wearily. Some fell and the counter clicked down. Still, no one seemed to miss her. The marathon, it seemed, could go on without her. Well, damn it, she could go on without it as well.

She slipped back to the sleeping quarters and began packing her things. She shoved what little she owned into her suitcase without care. Her dress and stocking were crumpled in there and would most likely wrinkle, but she didn't care. She slammed the lid down and snapped it closed. Then she lifted it up and her heart nearly stopped. There on the bed was a medal, shining up at her like a diamond. It was Jack's medal, the one he'd earned for bravery.

With a trembling hand, she lifted it up and held it against her chest.

Then she walked out of the room…then out of the building…and then out of Steel Pier.

And she was gone.

* * *

**AN:** And that's the end of our story. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I hope you enjoyed it :)


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